


Time and Tides

by Rybe



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Daud (Dishonored), Daud (Dishonored)-centric, Domestic, Found Family, Graphic medical procedures, Low Chaos Daud (Dishonored), M/M, Post Dishonored 2 but it didn't end well, Sad old men, Slice of Life, Slow Build, alternate title: Two old men accidentally join a commune, daud puts his time at the academy to very good use, feels like a weird tag for this franchise but hey, late onset plot syndrome, medium chaos Corvo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 111,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22764007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rybe/pseuds/Rybe
Summary: Empress Delilah Kaldwin's reign has made Daud's life as a fugitive very difficult. A small, quiet island off of Serkonos was an odd place to end up, but Daud found himself at home among the forgotten and the lost, away from prying eyes.He hopes to finally find find some peace in his new life. That is, until someone unexpected washes up on his doorstep.
Relationships: Corvo Attano/Daud
Comments: 206
Kudos: 383





	1. Marooned

It had been years since Daud was forced to clean blood out from under his nails. He took to wearing gloves early in his career. Then, on the off chance he found himself without them, his skills with a blade usually meant his hands were subjected to a bit of spatter and nothing more. Watching the swirl of red twisting its way down the drain was strange. Especially given the events leading to it.

He felt twisted up in knots. Maybe it was just the sleep deprivation. He’d sworn off killing since leaving Dunwall. Or at least he tried to, but the bounty hunters didn’t make it easy. Still, he endeavored to wound instead of kill even when clashes got heated. Trying to live peacefully was difficult enough under Empress Kaldwin, and it was damn near impossible under Empress Delilah.

The true irony of it all was this time his hands were bloody because he may have very well killed a completely helpless woman. And her family thanked him for it. 

With any luck, however, she might actually survive. Performing a surgery in a backwater inn with makeshift tools sanitized with fire and moonshine was less than ideal, so Daud wasn’t optimistic. Hopefully her family wouldn’t remove the bone charm he slipped under her pillow, and it could help her heal. 

The piercing wail of the newborn interrupted his thoughts. He shook his head, still in disbelief that the child was alive. 

The ordeal started close to two days ago. The daughter of the innkeeper went into labor, and they put her up in one of the inn’s rooms. It was an understandable choice; the inn was without question the nicest and cleanest building in the entire village.

The mother struggled and cried for hours, which agonizingly ground on into days. Her mother seemed well educated on delivery, but even the things she tried didn’t help. Slowly she started losing strength as her labor made no signs of progress. 

It was painful to listen to, and brought back memories long since buried under years of blood. Daud’s mother was many things. Pirate, witch, herbalist, but also midwife. As a young boy Daud helped her with numerous deliveries, grabbing water, towels, herbs, whatever she and the mother needed. Often, his mother wasn’t called until things were already going wrong. As a result, he’d seen enough deliveries end poorly to know how this one was going to end.

As the hours dragged on, her family seemed to know it too.

During Daud’s brief stay at the Academy of Natural Philosophy he witnessed a procedure for saving a mother in such a state. The woman from the demonstration and her baby both made full recoveries. Daud had been fascinated, and studied the surgeon’s papers on the procedure, wondering if a way to save so many lives would make its way out of the Academy walls. Naturally, it hadn’t yet. At least not to the masses.

He couldn’t say what compelled him to get up from his room, and darken the doorway of the young struggling mother. Maybe it was an urge to help. Maybe he just wanted it to finally be over so he wouldn’t have to listen to her moans and sobs through the walls. The innkeeper, a heavy set dark skinned woman named Kell, glared at him, but reluctantly got up when he silently waved her over.

“What do you want, Stranger. Can’t you see we’re-” the woman hissed as she stepped into the hallway, before Daud held up a hand, stopping her.

“At the Academy, I briefly studied a procedure for cutting the unborn from their mother’s stomach, which also allowed the mother to survive. I believe I remember enough to make an attempt,” he started as Kell’s eye grew round as his implied offer settled in. “But, I have to be clear, I have never performed it myself. I can’t promise either would survive. Honestly I’d warn against hoping for it. But I think we both know where this will end as is.”

Kell swallowed thickly and nodded, running a hand through her greasy wild hair. It was usually pinned into a neat bun, but she’d been understandably falling apart as her daughter’s labor continued.

“Have you...Successfully performed surgeries before?”

“Not like this-”

“In general.”

“Yes,” Daud said firmly, the woman blinked owl eyed at him. Outside of the Academy he had to become one hell of a medic with the Whalers. Though usually that was more stitching up than cutting open. But there were exceptions, like the time a Whaler’s appendix burst. Thanks to a strange series of events, they were unable to utilize a real doctor. So they ended up breaking into a surgeon’s office and used his equipment. The Whaler liked to show off his scar and brag about the time the boss “cut him open.”

He missed those idiots.

She looked him over again, head to foot, chewing on her lip. There was a look in her eyes that made Daud sure she knew exactly who he was. This wasn’t some random lunatic offering to cut open her daughter, but a notorious assassin offering to cut open her daughter. Whether that weighed for or against him was anyone’s guess. “Thank you. For telling me. I’ll. I’ll let the others know. See what they think.”

Daud nodded. “Of course. But I’ll warn you, if the procedure is to have a chance of success, it has to be done while the mother still has some strength left to recover.”

Kell nodded and headed back to her daughter’s room, and Daud silently returned to his.

A few hours later came the knock on his door. Even the mother agreed, there was no other hope.

Daud sent the family scrambling for supplies. A scalpel (they had a fairly nice one by some miracle) clean cloths, water, candles, herbs, the strongest alcohol they could find. Meanwhile Daud wrapped one of his most valued bone charms in a handkerchief. He wasn’t sure of the family’s take on magic yet, best to keep it concealed, but he wasn’t about to leave out its healing properties. 

He saw them glance at the mark on his hand as he set to work, but they said nothing. The mother took two shots of the alcohol before he attempted to clean her stomach with the rot gut. From the smell it was certainly potent, hopefully it would be good enough.

He had her bite down on the wrapped bone charm while her husband, mother, and teenage sister held her in place. It seemed she’d grown too weak to cry out the last few hours. That was until the scalpel started cutting into her.

The sight granted to him by the Outsider helped him determine how deep to sink the blade. He worked as quickly as he could. Everyone was shocked, Daud included, when he gently delivered the gore covered infant into its grandmother’s arms...and it started to cry.

It seemed as far as the family was concerned he’d worked a miracle, but he didn’t have all of the supplies needed to correctly stitch the mother back up. He used what they had, and did his best. They’d know in a few hours whether she’d bleed out. Then if she survived that, it would be a few days or weeks to determine whether she’d succumb to infection…

But for now they seemed overjoyed. The baby girl was alive. And for the moment, so was the mother.

Either way it was over for the time being. And Daud could finally get some rest.

Footsteps followed him down the hallway as he headed to his room. He pretended not to notice, while internally preparing for an attack, scoping his surroundings, working out how he would react. Given the context an attack seemed unlikely, but it was reflex.

“Daud,” Kell’s voice called as he reached for the doorknob. He froze. Well, that answered the question about whether or not they recognized him.

He turned, folding his arms, waiting for the woman to speak. There was no use trying to pretend she was wrong.

“You saved my daughter. And my granddaughter. There’s nothing I can do to repay you for that,” she said quietly, staring him down, almost as if daring him to disagree. He raised a brow, a wave of awkward discomfort sweeping around him. This was so far out of his element, he honestly had no idea how to respond. Why did he help her? Because he, arguably, wasn’t a cold hearted monster? Sitting on his knowledge and not even offering seemed heartless and cruel? At least this way maybe he could get some sleep?

“She’s not out of the woods yet. I think I stopped the bleeding, but it’s difficult to be sure. And if that incision gets infected-” Daud started, though Kell held up her hand, stopping him.

“We have a stock of those elixirs. And she’s a strong girl,” she propped her hands on her hips, giving Daud a quick once over. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like. Rent free.”

Daud nodded. “That’s very generous of you. Thank you.” He had enough coin to stay for a while, though answers about when the next boat would stop by were vague at best. Being on the run for so many years had really put a dent in his savings.

“And don’t worry. Your identity’s safe with us. You’re not the first fugitive to hole up here,” Kell said with a mischievous glint in her eye. 

Daud rocked back on his heels a little, looking her over. She did remind him of some of the pirates he’d met in the past. And the remoteness of this island would make it an excellent smuggling hub. He shouldn’t have been surprised. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Oh, and you might not want to let Theodore see that,” she added, gesturing to Daud’s hand. Even when he didn’t wear gloves, he usually kept it covered. But he had to have both hands free and clean for the procedure. “Or maybe you do. It might be funny…”

“Theodore?”

“Theo tends the bar in the evenings. Cooks sometimes. Has a big mess of scars on his face. You can’t miss him. You should join us tomorrow night. Folks all usually start gathering a few hours after dusk. We’ll have a lot to celebrate this time around. Drinks will be on me.”

“Thank you, but I’m not really one for parties.”

“Ah, well, suit yourself. But you should stop by anyway. I’m going to put on a _feast_ to celebrate my granddaughter,” Kell grinned up at him one last time before giving half a wave and sauntering off down the hall. “They called you the Knife of Dunwall right? Well. I guess this makes you the Scalpel of Serkonos, right?” She chuckled. “I like that. Has a good ring to it,” she said, disappearing into her daughter’s room before Daud could respond. He rubbed his forehead with a sigh. He could only hope that nickname wouldn’t stick.

Daud stepped inside his cramped, dreary, mildew smelling room. The place was a bit of a shithole, there was no question, but at least he hadn’t found any shankers infesting his blankets. At least not yet. Though he was under the distinct impression the town didn’t get many visitors. He collapsed on the hard, lumpy mattress, exhausted after two solid days of second hand anxiety. A strange, unfamiliar feeling still twisted in his stomach. Sure, playing the hero was a somewhat foreign role for him. But it was more than that. 

Whatever it was, it could wait. For now he needed sleep.

* * *

Daud sighed as the storm rattled his window. So much for getting off this island any time soon. With the weather growing worse and worse by the day, Kell doubted there’d be another ship stopping by until spring.

When he’d booked passage on a cargo vessel, he wasn’t headed for this island. Hell, he didn’t even know this island existed. The man he made arrangements with didn’t seem to recognize him. But then well out to sea, the all too familiar whispers started. 

They stopped at the island to drop off some supplies for the tiny, lone village, and to rest on land for a bit. Daud was on his guard the whole while, waiting for someone to try and plant a knife in his back. Instead, it seemed the crew of the ship decided he was too risky to have around, and snuck out in the middle of the night. Daud pretended not to notice as they packed and left. There would be another boat to book passage out. It wasn’t worth the problems it would cause to force his way back on the vessel.

Initially according to the villagers the next boat should arrive in a couple weeks, weather permitting. So he settled in for what would hopefully be an uneventful stay, keeping mostly to himself, which had proven easier said than done. 

Daud attended the celebratory feast Kell invited him to only long enough to get food, see the young mother was recovering well, and then disappeared into the woodwork. Apparently the entire goddamn village was crammed into the building. The inn seemed to be the de facto gathering place for the town, serving as their only restaurant and bar. A few long term residents other than the innkeeper also lived in a handful of the rooms.

The village had around fifty residents, surprisingly few of whom were career fishermen, and even fewer were related. Everyone seemed to be oddballs washed up from the four corners of the map. While, of course, fishing and farming helped sustain the population, most of their revenue, as far as Daud could tell, came from holding goods for various ships--no doubt illegal goods--and not asking questions.

He slowly determined that Kell was in fact an ex-pirate. The bartender, Theodore, had shaggy blond hair and a mess of scars on his face as Kell described, and spent a good deal of time muttering strictures under his breath. Daud was eventually shocked to realize most of the man’s scars were self inflicted, seemingly in an attempt to disguise the heretic’s mark branded on his forehead. 

Another villager was a woman, Nadia, Daud actually recognized from Dunwall, an associate of the Dead Eels, if not a member. She was good at finding forbidden objects, and they’d done business a number of times. He eventually learned she’d vanished, Daud assumed she’d been murdered or arrested. So far he hadn’t gotten around to asking what actually happened.

Daud heaved himself up off his bed and out the door. His room was on the second floor of the inn, perched along a walkway that ringed the tavern space below. He leaned on the railing, looking down. The tavern was quiet today, and perhaps more importantly, being tended by Kell instead of Theodore, so he decided to head down.

It was an odd establishment, to go with its odd patrons. Some days it was dead, other days the entire village was crammed in its surprisingly sturdy walls. Few of the tables or chairs matched. Even fewer dishes matched. The only decorations on the walls were a sizeable stuffed marlin and a surprisingly expensive looking engraved platter. To go along with the out of place expense of the platter, a pristine, finely finished, perfectly oiled full sized harp sat in the corner. He’d heard someone playing it at some point during his stay, though he was unsure who.

Kell smiled warmly at him, and poured a mug of ale before he could even ask, sliding it towards him. “On the house,” she said.

Daud grunted, taking a seat at the bar. “Thanks.” He’d learned early on there was no use in trying to rebuff any of Kell’s generosity. As he settled in to take a drink, he heard the all too familiar, yet maddeningly faint song of a bone charm calling to him. That quiet, unpleasant grind of a noise that was enough to drive a person mad, but also beckoned.

“How’s Sybil doing?” Daud asked. Several days after the delivery, Kell’s daughter and newborn child moved back in with her husband. They hadn’t made the trip back to the inn very often, but Kell visited constantly.

“She’s healing up just grand. Which reminds me, need to give this back...” Kell said, reaching under the bar, and handing Daud a cloth wrapped bundle. The music stopped once he had the bone charm back in his possession, still demurely wrapped in its handkerchief, as if Kell didn’t know what it was. 

Daud thanked her and tucked it away, glad it was able to help. When they packed it up and left with it he hadn’t asked after it, but had planned to swipe it back after a time. Now there was no need.

They drifted into small talk as Daud drank and Kell half heartedly cleaned the bar.

“There’s something I gotta ask. I hope it’s not too intrusive,” she finally said. Daud raised a brow, waiting for her to continue. The questions people had for him were rarely anything new. Why did you kill the Empress? What was it like? Or questions about becoming an assassin. 

“So, you had one hell of a bounty after Empress Jessamine. But why the hell’d your bounty go _up_ after Delilah took over? I thought she’d appreciate a fellow regicide.”

Daud cracked a faint smile. That _was_ a new question. “It’s a long story.”

“Got nothin’ but time,” Kell said with a smile, gesturing around the empty, dim tavern. Daud sighed.

“I trapped her in the void for over a decade.”

Kell pursed her lips, looking Daud over. “I didn’t take you as the type for tall tales.”

Daud shrugged. “I told you it was a long story. Wish it’d been forever. I can’t imagine how the hell she got out...”

Kell’s eyebrows slowly drifted up as she realized he was serious. She shook her head slowly. “Well shit.”

“I guess I have a question for you then.”

“Shoot.”

“I’m a bit surprised you don’t mind having a regicide hanging around your inn. In fact no one seems to mind having me around. Why?”

“Told you, you’re not the first fugitive we’ve had here.”

“Yes, but there’s fugitives, and then there’s me.”

Kell chuckled. “I suppose you’re right about that. Here. Let me show you somethin’,” she said, stepping away from the bar. She flagged for Daud to follow as she walked to a door behind the bar. It led to a back room, which led to a cramped office. A large wanted poster depicted a much younger, wild haired Kell, and boasting a significant bounty, stood proudly plastered against one wall. She chuckled when she caught Daud eyeing it. “Wasn’t I cute back then? Damn. Got so old.”

Daud bit back a smile, she had indeed been pretty good looking in her youth. Though she cut a handsome figure now even if she’d gained a few gray hairs and a few pounds. “Don’t think it’s risky keeping your own wanted poster in your own office?”

“Nah,” she said, dragging a sizable trunk from under a shelf. She popped it open, revealing it was full of even more wanted posters. “You know, I sometimes think of our little island as a self imposed prison colony,” she said, rifling through, and pulling out posters one at a time, each a face Daud recognized from around the village. Pirates, smugglers, murderers, heretics, fraudsters, each with a significant figure attached to their head. “Half of us are wanted. The other half are folks who have to disappear for other reasons, or are family, friends... But it works as insurance. Can’t very well turn in your neighbor if doin’ it will get yourself or someone you care about caught.”

“You keep all of these posters as leverage?” Daud asked, rifling through a stack she plopped down on her desk before she continued to dig through the chest. It contained far more posters than just the island residents. 

“Nah, started keeping the posters as a hobby. Once me and my crew each got one, I just started collecting them for everyone I knew. Pretty soon I just started grabbin’ them in general. Made a lot of friends recognizing faces from these posters, believe it or not,” she said with a chuckle, finally pulling out Daud’s poster. “Ah, there you are…”

Daud shook his head, looking over the poster. Kell wasn’t the only one who’d gotten old. Luckily Delilah didn’t have a new image of him, so it was the same sketch as his old one. Too bad his facial scar still made him far too easy to recognize. Now she was offering an entire estate to whoever could bring her his head. To say she was mad at him was an understatement. 

“You know, I was always a little surprised Emily never raised your bounty. Inflation and all.”

“I suspect that was the Lord Protector’s doing. I believe he instilled some sense of mercy in her...” Even all these years later he still couldn’t quite comprehend that Corvo spared him. He could only imagine his sense of mercy passed to his daughter, or he at least helped quell any fully justified flames of vengeance that might have dwelled in her young heart. But undoing his bounty all together probably would have raised far too many eyebrows to really consider.

“Shame he’s not at the court for the new empress then,” Kell said with a chuckle.

“I believe he is. I’ve heard rumors Delilah turned him into statuary and keeps him in her garden. A shame, really...”

“See, this is why I keep away from magic outside the occasional bone charm,” Kell said, her shoulders sagging. “You know, think I got posters for a lot of your crew in here. Let’s see…” she continued digging through the trunk, pulling out posters for Whalers. Daud had to smile despite himself, seeing some of them. She really did have some old ones. He always chuckled at the ones with names misspelled, unrecognizable sketches, or even better, ones with just whaling masks. They did a pretty decent job keeping most of their identities under wraps. 

When she pulled out Billie’s poster, he couldn’t help the slight melancholy that came with. He regretted how he and Lurk parted, and always faintly hoped they’d bump into each other again.

“Y’know, I swear I met this one once. Was going by another name, and captain of a ship. But I swear…”

Daud’s eyebrows shot up at that. A captain? Good for her.

The two spent a long while in that office, going through posters, trading stories about outlaws they’d met through the decades. He hated to admit it, but it was some of the most fun he’d had in years. Maybe staying on this island for a while wouldn’t be so terrible.

* * *

There was a strange sort of melancholic rhythm living in the village. The island was called Salvage Isle, and it lived up to its name. None of the residents really behave like any other villagers Duad had ever met. They were all castaways who drifted in from different walks of life, settled together on a remote rock like so much flotsam and jetsam. Nestled away from prying eyes.

Word that Daud saved Sybil and her newborn spread instantly through the village. And while people were still reasonably wary of his presence at first, it wasn’t long before he got tepid inquiries about injuries, remedies. The baby has colic, Evan sprained his ankle, what are good herbs for a sore throat...all remedies Daud was a little surprised to realize he knew. It seemed he’d retained more from his mother and the academy than he thought.

Daud ended up working with the local distiller, an odd man named Baz, to create some close to pure alcohol for sterilization and other concoctions. The man seemed intrigued to make something that wasn’t drinkable for once. Though, arguably, many of his concoctions already weren’t drinkable... He liked to share his new experimental brews in the inn, to mixed results.

A ship came into port before the tincture Daud promised to make one of the villagers was ready, so Daud decided to wait. Now that the storms were over, there would be another boat. 

One evening he heard the harpist playing. She was remarkably talented, and a better player than any professionals Daud had ever heard. Usually he remained shut away when he heard it, but this time he finally, curiously emerged from his room, only to find what must have been close to the entire village crammed downstairs, listening to her performance in near silence. Daud ended up leaning on the railing, listening from above. The whole thing was strangely pleasant, and peaceful. Though many of the songs were so haunting, it couldn’t be called a cheerful experience. Then, a couple weeks later, Daud was surprised to see it happen again. Soon he learned it was a regular occurence.

The harpist fit into the village perfectly, in that she seemed like a person who absolutely did not belong. She was a delicate whisp of a woman, with a shy smile and a gentle soul. Daud ended up speaking with her regularly enough, as she came by the inn to practice. The next time Daud head a boat was coming, the harpist told him she’d be presenting a new song she composed herself a couple days after the boat was set to leave. He couldn’t very well disappoint her and miss that. There’d be another boat. 

One night, Daud cracked an eye open as he heard someone softly knocking on his door. He sat up in bed with a sigh as it persisted, and eventually dragged himself to his feet. It was the middle of the goddamn night. What could someone possibly want with him right now.

He reached instinctively for his blade, usually a midnight caller would mean bad news, though if they were coming for him, it seems unlikely they’d gently knock as opposed to kicking his door down. But he grabbed it anyway.

“Psst, Daud! C’mon, wake up!” the persistent knocker whispered. He recognized the voice as the local distiller, Baz.

When he opened the door, he gave Baz an annoyed look as the man stood there, waving almost innocently. Baz was a large man, even if his posture collapsed a bit with age, and his muscles withered from years of lounging and drinking instead of brawling. He was almost unrecognizable from the grizzled, square jawed bruiser in his wanted poster, now looking more like an enormous jovial hermit with messy hair and a ruddy complexion. But he was still tall, broad, and sturdy.

Apparently, Baz had been part of a large gang in Karnaca who had a reputation for hosting wild and highly illegal gambling events. He was living the high life, or as well as a Karnacan thug could, until one day a cock fight got a little too rowdy. In the ensuing brawl he ended up, somewhat accidentally, killing the son of an aristocrat. The kid apparently snuck out to experience some “adventure” and got in over his head. Baz’s gang turned on him for his bounty, and he fled.

“Took you long enough. And here I pegged you for a light sleeper,” he said in hushed tones.

“I am. I was ignoring you. What do you want,” Daud muttered, putting the blade aside as he noticed Baz’s relaxed posture. There was no danger at the moment. 

“So you know how Theo sneaks out all the time?” Baz asked, Daud nodded, stifling a yawn. Theo lived in one of the other rooms in the inn, Daud couldn’t help but notice the man sneaking out in the dead of night seemingly about once a week. Especially early on in his stay, the sound of unexpected footsteps creeping past his doorway setting off all sorts of internal alarms, until he learned to recognize them, and it became just another village oddity. 

“I finally managed to track down where he goes, but don’t want to check it out alone.”

Daud narrowed his eyes at the man. “Why are you waking me up for this?”

“Because everyone else said no.”

“Well, guess I’ll join them in that,” Daud said, starting to close his door, before Baz slammed his hand on it, keeping it open.

“Wait! I mean...also because Theo’s been...even weirder since you got here.”

“Yeah? He doesn’t like me. It’s not that mysterious.”

“But I’m worried he might be up to no good. Never trusted that kid. Since the day he stepped foot on this island. Don’t you want to find out what the hell he’s up to?” Baz pleaded. Daud sighed, rubbing his eyes.

“Why do we have to go _now_?”

“Cause he’s got lighthouse duty today and won’t catch us,” Baz explained. The lighthouse was yet another strange focal point of the village. It had no electricity, and was fueled by old fashioned fires that had to be tended to during the night. No matter how many times they replaced the lamps, they seemed to periodically die without warning. The villagers all took turns tending it. The rocks around the island were particularly deadly, making it important that the lighthouse remain lit. The people seemed to take a sleepless night every couple months as a cost of living there. Even Daud found himself tending the light.

“You could have said something sooner,” Daud grumbled.

“Honestly? I forgot. Now are you coming or not?”

Daud sighed, he had to admit, he _was_ curious. “Fine, just give me a second,” Daud muttered, walking into his room to fumble through his dark dresser for a shirt. Baz stepped inside and closed the door behind him, apparently unconcerned for Daud’s potential modesty as the man dressed. 

“Dang, where’d you get that?” Baz asked, gesturing to a pronounced scar at his side. Daud scowled as he pulled the shirt over his head, hiding it away.

“Long story.”

“Got nothin’ but time,” Baz said. Daud was starting to wonder if that was the village motto.

“Lost a fight with the Lord Protector,” Daud muttered, sitting on the bed to pull on his boots. 

“Huh. But then how…?”

“Are you going to stand there all night or lead the way,” Daud snapped, cutting him off. Baz got the hint--no more questions--and shrugged, quietly heading out.

The small island was densely forested, with steep hills and cliffs rising out behind the village. Usually the strongest winds blew from behind the cliffs, keeping the village sheltered from the worst of the yearly storms. The combination of the cliffs and the jungle made navigating the island’s interior difficult, but the two were able to follow what Daud would assume to be a small game trail if he didn’t know a certain weirdo apparently cut the path with his night time excursions.

Baz prattled about inane village gossip almost the entire way. He seemed to be reveling in the opportunity to bring a newcomer up to speed on every last detail of village drama for the last decade. The only part of it that surprised Daud was how little he minded.

Eventually they reached the foot of a cliff, with a crude ladder chiseled into its side leading up to a cave a distance up the face. 

“After you…” Baz said, eyeing the ladder with distrust. It wasn’t too far up the face, but falling from the top was certain to lead to a broken bone, or at least to hurt like a bitch.

Daud nodded, eyeballing the distance and...transversed to the top. Baz jumped, and swore.

“Fuck! Startled me. You and your black magic bullshit. That’s cheating!”

“Admit it, you’re just jealous,” Daud called back down, leaning on the mouth of the cave, folding his arms. 

“Gotta teach me how to do that,” Baz muttered, planting his foot in the first divot, as Daud shook his head. He’d already explained to Baz it was more complicated than simply teaching the man. Despite the fact it was possible to spread his gift to him, Baz at least for the most part seemed to be joking in his desire. While he acknowledged how useful it must be, the idea of magic still frightened him, as it did most people. 

A villager caught him transversing when he was trying to explore the island. Daud had hoped the man would keep quiet, but should have known better. If one person knew something, everyone in town knew it within a few days. Then, sure enough, about a week later, one of the children came knocking on his door, much to her parents horror. Apparently her cat had gotten itself trapped on the roof of their cabin, and their ladder was too short to get it down.

There was almost something delightfully stupid about using the Outsider’s dark gifts to rescue a girl’s cat off of a roof. Though the little tabby bastard did claw the shit out of him in the process.

“What do you think we’ll find in here? Locks of hair? Lecherous drawings?” Baz asked.

“I thought you suspected he was up to something sinister.”

“I do! I just...am being realistic,” Baz said as he dragged himself up to the mouth of the cave, dusting his hands on his pants. 

“I’m pretty sure if Theo was hiding lecherous drawings in here he’d flagellate himself until he bled on his off nights,” Daud grumbled.

“Oh, he’d flagellate somethin’ alright,” Baz wheezed as Daud grimaced in disgust. 

As the two walked into the cave, Daud heard an all too familiar ringing in his ears. A grinding, soft eerie music calling to him. It was so much louder than usual, stronger, it made his hand itch and skin tingle. An eerie, faint purple light began to illuminate their steps before they found themselves standing in front of an altar, draped in ragged purple cloths, old splintered planks standing wound together with barbed wire. 

The shrine was piled with more bone charms than Daud had ever seen in one place, including his own collection back in Dunwall. Some looked worn by the sea, old, decayed, flaked with dirt and dried algae. While others looked freshly carved, nearly pristine.

Suddenly Daud was no longer in the cave, his world an all too familiar stillness and cold, the soft purple glow replaced by the dark, dead gray of the void. Daud spun, startled, and alone, the chill of the void immediately beginning to seep into his bones. He’d stumbled across shrines now and then, but he hadn’t found himself in the void for years now. Hadn’t heard the voice of the Outsider since he left Dunwall. Since Corvo spared his life.

He scowled, looking around his rock situated in the endless inky ocean. He was alone, for the moment, though a trail of slate slabs led off into the distance. Of course the Outsider would make it a game after so long. 

Daud set his jaw in frustration, half tempted to just sit down and wait, and refuse to play his stupid game. But surely the Outsider’s patience would outweigh his own in the end. What were a handful of hours to an immortal being? So he blinked to the next platform, and the next.

A broken decayed, yet eerily familiar gazebo sat atop an impossibly floating slab, so high up even after blinking Daud had to catch the edge and haul himself up. The Outsider stood in the center of the gazebo, hands clasped behind his back. Waiting.

_“Of the hundreds of paths you could have taken, I never would have guessed you would land here. They say the currents pull the lost and forgotten to this island. It is easy to see you haven’t been forgotten... But are you lost?”_

Suddenly Daud was back in the cave, rocking back on his heels, regaining his bearings.

“Really? You black-eyed bastard... you don’t speak to me in over a decade and that’s all you have to say!?” Daud snapped at nothing, at the shrine, at the Outsider who he knew damn well could hear him. 

“What...what just happened?” Baz stammered, almost startling Daud out of his steadily growing fury. He’d forgotten the man was even there, he looked white as a sheet. “Y-you just stood there and- d-did the Outsider really speak to you…?”

Daud took a deep breath, working to unclench his jaw. He gestured to the pile of bone charms. “Well, I guess we know what Theo’s up to now. I’m going back to bed.” 

With that he blinked away, out of the cave, back to the path, and started trudging back to the inn. Was he lost. What kind of a question was that.

* * *

Daud sat on a fallen log, worn smooth and from years of asses, overlooking a lumpy hide on the ground and the dice that bounced across it. 

The villagers with particularly high bounties usually made themselves scarce when ships stopped by. Though Daud’s infamy mostly put the others to shame, they were still happy to have another player for their dice tournaments.

Their forays into the jungle while they waited for the strangers to leave were made all the more entertaining by the fact that Baz made it a point to always bring along new batches of liquor. The entire group staggering back to the inn so shitfaced they could barely walk was a common occurrence.

“Y’know, Daud. You’re not quite the piece of shit I thought you’d be…” the oldest member of the group, a white haired man named Sergio said virtually out of the blue. Theoretically, Sergio’s bounty was second to Daud’s, but the old man had been rendered forgotten and unrecognizable with time. Now he was simply so frail he couldn’t help unload cargo, so he just stayed with the notorious group.

Another member of the group laughed at Sergio’s comment, while Baz wheezed. 

“Now why’d you go ‘n say that?” Baz asked. He leaned forward from his perch on a stump, casting the dice, not even watching the numbers come up.

“See, obviously I’m no stranger to killin’. But I’ve met a few assassins in my time, and each of ‘em was a bastard who’d slit your mother’s throat for a few coins,” Sergio said, leaning back in his chair, the only member of the group to have one. He’d lugged the sturdy thing out there some years past, and kicked anyone who dared to sit in it, grumbling about the need to respect your elders.

“I knew an assassin back in the day. He was an upstanding fellow. Except the murdering part. But he’d only do it for the job, not just for the hell of it, you know?” Baz said, almost wistfully. Daud shook his head, smirking despite himself.

“Bet he’d still slit your mother’s throat for a few coin though. What about you, Daud?”

Daud chuckled. “We were the best, and charged accordingly. Not many people’s mothers had enemies with enough coin to hire us.” He hadn’t talked much about his former career with the villagers, and usually they didn’t ask. Though most people were fairly open about their pasts, Daud’s seemed to be an invisible line they were all hesitant to cross, and Daud wasn’t usually eager to tell them about it. But he’d had just enough terrible coconut moonshine to loosen his tongue.

“So, only served the rich bastards?” Sergio asked with a hint of disgust.

“Generally. But that also meant usually killing rich bastards.”

“You mean they never sent you off to kill peasant folk that made them mad just because?” Baz asked, sounding genuinely curious.

“I’m not kidding when I said we weren’t cheap. It was a lot easier to hire the kind of guys Sergio knew for that kind of job. Had one bastard try to hire me to off his washerwoman after she caught him having an affair. He got insulted when I wouldn’t lower the price for ‘some washing wench.’ I guess he didn’t appreciate my suggestion that her life wasn’t worth any less than _his_.” 

He cracked a smile at the memory. “I ended up summoning my right hand man at the time into the room during negotiations. We started pretending _her_ mother had been a washer woman, and didn’t take kindly to the idea of being given a handfull of coin to murder someone like her. The bastard near pissed his pants before we walked out.” He could still hear Billie’s cold, emotionless lines in his head as she played along with Daud’s lie. Something about the deadly edge to her voice made it even more convincing than an emotional plea would have. She and Daud were alike in that they were usually far faster with their blades than their tongues. But they could improvise well enough when there was a need.

He eventually ended up tipping the washer woman off that her boss was trying to kill her, got her to skip town, effectively getting the man what he wanted for free. So Daud sent a couple of his best sneaks to rob the guy. Sadly, while they may have been excellent at getting by unnoticed, they weren’t the most disciplined pair. The guy was apparently planning some sort of feast and the two went a little nuts when they found his pantry.

They might not have gotten paid in coin, but the Whalers feasted like kings that evening. And half of them got sick after they somehow manage to eat an entire wheel of cheese. But it was still a good day. 

He missed those bastards. He missed Lurk.

“Like I said. Thanks to our reputation and our skills we pretty much exclusively took contracts on powerful individuals,” Daud explained.

“So,” the lone woman of the group, Nadia, chimed in. “You only went after the big fish. Whales...you were whalers...fuck’s sake the pun’s been staring me in the face all along.”

Daud smirked crookedly, it wasn’t the first time he’d heard it. Or thought it. “I suppose you could say that.”

“Your crew must have been livin’ large if your takes were that good,” Baz said, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, apparently delighted to be getting Daud’s tongue wagging.

Daud snorted. “Contracts that big don’t come up often. We ran pretty lean. But decently enough.”

“I don’t get it though. How could you make your living murdering innocent people?” Sergio.

“Innocent,” Daud scoffed. “The people we killed weren’t innocent. Nobles and wealthy bastards one and all. Sitting in their sprawling manors sipping overpriced imported wine while paying their servants pennies and letting bodies of the people they grind under their boots clog the gutters till the water itself was poisoned. Some of them were probably righteous enough. But whether they were well intentioned or not they still stood on the backs of damn near everyone in Dunwall.

“Me and my crew did more good for that damned city than any one of those rich bastards ever did. Fed more orphans, protected more widows. Spread their hoarded coin around. Killing them wasn’t murder to us. It was justice,” Daud spat.

“Fuck, I’ll drink to that,” Nadia said, raising her mug, before downing a long gulp of liquor, and cringing. 

“Make it sound like you were running’ a damn charity,” Sergio scoffed.

Daud snorted again. “Hardly,” he muttered, taking a drink of his own vile liquor. Who knew something that smelled so good could taste like industrial chemicals. They all had such high hopes for this batch. In years past, he’d avoided drinking at all, but having some of Baz’s concoctions had become a regular occurence. “Did pick up quite a few strays though.”

“Were all of them really so bad? You don’t regret killing anyone?” Sergio asked in disbelief. Daud eyed him over his cup with a scowl. 

“Just one,” he said grimly, grinding the conversation to a halt. No one had to ask who. An awkward silence fell over the group as the reality of Daud’s words sunk in. It was easy to forget they were in the presence of the man who killed the empress. 

Finally Nadia cleared her throat, and kicked Baz’s shoe. “You rolled snake eyes.”

“Aw shit.”

“Between your and Nadia’s stories, Dunwall sounds like a shithole…” Baz said as he swiped the dice, passing them along.

“Pretty much…” Daud agreed.

“You know, Daud, I wanted to join the Whalers back in the day,” Nadia said as she snatched the dice up off the ground.

“Oh?”

“Watch out. Now she’s gonna confess her awkward teenage crush on you,” Baz laughed, then laughing even harder as Nadia also rolled snake eyes, nearly falling off his stump as he rocked backwards, slapping his knee. 

“Fuck you, Baz. And no, if I had an awkward teenage crush on anyone it was Lurk,” she said, with a wistful glint in her eye. “She was a _fine_ woman.”

Daud snorted. “Should have gone for it, might have gotten her to loosen up a little.”

“Hah! That’s ripe, coming from you. Took you a year to loosen up enough to tell us damn near anything about yourself,” Baz said, steadying himself on his stump. 

Daud blinked, pausing halfway through another sip of liquor. “Has it been a year?”

“Damn near…” Sergio said.

Daud shook his head in disbelief, he supposed he knew, the storms were only a couple months away. But it was still hard to believe. As the ships came and went, he always had an excuse. This boat was hauling livestock, and smelled from a hundred yards away, he’d rather not be stuck on that thing for days. But then the next ship was going to come before that latest batch of moonshine was ready, and Daud had money riding on how horrendous it would taste after the introduction of turnip juice. Or he owed someone a favor and agreed to take their turn at lighthouse duty, which meant missing the next boat.

As time passed, his excuses became weaker and weaker. He didn’t even notice when he found himself putting in orders for supplies to come on the next boat. Something for one last project, one last favor, before he’d finally leave. Until one day the vessels came and went, and the thought to get on board never even crossed his mind, like today. He hadn’t even spared a thought to wonder if these visitors were smugglers who might be willing to have him on board, he’d just joined the other outlaws in the woods for dice and drinking.

“Time flies when you’re getting tanked every other day,” Baz cackled, raising his jug of home brew, and proceeding to top everyone off whether they liked it or not.

Their conversation was interrupted as footsteps approached along their trail. The strides were quick, but casual, light. One of the children. Probably Kell’s youngest. Daud’s constant reflexive vigilance had some odd side effects sometimes.

“Ship’s cast off, you can come back,” the young woman said as she emerged into their clearing. 

“About damn time, I was having one hell of a losing streak,” Baz groaned, heaving himself to his feet, while one of the others helped Sergio up. 

“It was a big shipment,” Kell’s daughter said with a shrug, before heading back off towards the inn.

And indeed it was. When Daud got back to the inn he found the open dining space half filled with crates and boxes stacked on the floor and tables. Many were labeled with food items, while Kell had already cracked open a few containing miscellaneous items requested by the towns folk over the weeks and months. 

“Hey Daud, looks like some of your books came- oh! My posters!” Kell said with borderline glee as she dug through one of the boxes. Daud couldn’t help but smile as he moved to her side, he supposed there were stranger things to collect than wanted posters. 

That particular crate was packed with not only wanted posters, but books and newspapers. There wasn’t a whole lot to do on the island, especially for people who were raised in cities, or generally outside of small town life. Keeping up with events on the main islands, as well as reading recreationally, were popular past times. So popular in fact, one of the inn’s twelve “guest” rooms had been converted into a library. 

Thanks to the fact Daud had a hard time showing his face in public, he’d also started reading quite extensively well before winding up on the island. And despite that, he’d barely scratched the surface on their library. 

This shipment contained some updated medical texts from the academy he’d asked for. He’d become the village’s defacto doctor, and thought it only fitting to brush up on all he’d learned through the years. Besides, he found it really was all quite interesting. He’d always been happy to brush up on the Academy’s latest medical texts when he could find them.

“Well...I’ll be damned…” Daud murmured, as Kell set aside a brand new poster, picking it up off the stack.

“No doubt already are…” Theo muttered in the background.

“Oh hush you,” Kell hissed over her shoulder, before pausing to look at the poster. Daud just shook his head.

The wanted poster was for none other than Corvo Attano. With one hell of a bounty too, and an even bigger one if he was dragged back to Dunwall alive. He could only imagine what on earth Delilah would want him alive for. 

“The son of a bitch is still kicking. Good…” he said, placing the poster back on the table.

“Huh? Friend of yours?” she asked.

“Not exactly.”

“Wait, he was the former Royal Protector, right? Why in the world would you be happy to see him alive?” Nadia asked, peering over Daud’s shoulder.

Daud shrugged. “Long story,” he said in a tone that indicated that it was a story he wasn’t about to tell. He may have grown to trust the villagers as much as he was willing to trust anyone these days, but some things were simply best left in the past.

Kell nodded knowingly. “Ahh, Daud’s long stories. Two sentences, and raise way more questions than they answer.”

Daud just nodded, he couldn’t disagree. 

“Wasn’t that the guy that stabbed you?” Baz added, appearing helpfully peering over his other shoulder. Daud narrowed a glare at him; he’d forgotten he ever mentioned it. Baz raised his hands defensively at the look. “Right, right. Long story, I’ll leave it alone.”

Though no doubt it wouldn’t be left alone forever.

Daud settled into helping the villagers unpack their haul, when a couple hours later they heard a commotion outside, followed by a scream. A few moments later a stranger kicked open the front door. Daud blinked away on sheer reflex, landing on the upper walkway, overlooking the intruders. The man had a saber drawn, flanked by six others. Pirates, Daud would wager. They must have seen the supply ship dropping off the goods and were swooping in for a bit of shore side looting.

“Looks like a fine shipment you got there. I believe that’s ours,” the leader said as he gestured to their piles of crates with his saber. He was a wheesly looking man with his head shaved smooth and a smug grin, and a swagger that looked completely unjustified judging by how he handled his sword.

“Like hell they are! What kind of shit pirates are you, looting some tiny village,” Kell snapped, slamming her palms down on a table, giving them such a scathing look it was a miracle none of them spontaneously combusted.

“Looks like the old woman’s a spitfire. Kill her, boys.”

Daud let out a long sigh, enough was enough. He downed the rest of his vile alcohol, suppressing a shudder as he slamming the empty mug down on the railing. He blinked back to the ground floor and clenched his fist, time grinding to a halt around him. 

Two of the men were half way through drawing their pistols, which Daud took a moment to aim at each other’s legs before pulling the triggers. He then choked the remaining four into unconsciousness, before sliding up behind the leader, just as time resumed. The two with pistols fell to the ground screaming in pain, and their other compatriots crumpling to the floor around them. 

The leader of the started to spin at the sound, only to be grabbed by Daud before he could glimpse the assassin’s face, his saber twisted out of his grip with practiced ease, and placed against his neck as Daud held him firm from behind. 

“What- how?” the man stammered, his voice cracking as he froze in terror. 

“You and your boys are going to leave the island, and don’t come back, or next time I won’t let you live. Understood?” Daud asked, letting the blade scrape against the man’s stubble. Lucky for him the thing was dull as shit, or his slightly unsteady grip thanks to the booze would have likely caused a bit of bleeding.

“Who- what are you?”

Daud snorted into the man’s ear, pressing the blade harder against his neck. “A demon,” he growled sarcastically.

“Okay! Okay, w-we’ll leave.”

“And apologize to the lady,” Daud said, directing the pirate’s gaze to Kell, who had her hands on her hips, brows raised.

“S-sorry Ma’am! We’ll...we’ll be going.”

“Damn right you will be. Now get.”

Daud blinked away, though took the saber with, as the pirate frantically scrabbled to grab one of his unconscious men, dragging him to the door, barking orders at the two injured ones who still lay on the ground clutching their legs. 

Soon all the pirates were gone, and Daud wandered back downstairs, handing the saber over to Kell. He could hear Theo tucked behind the bar somewhere, whispering strictures to himself in terror. Daud shook his head and sat heavily on a chair, apologizing for the mess to the poor bastards already cleaning up the blood. He was too tired, and rapidly becoming too drunk to help. Downing the last of that liquor was a terrible idea.

He shouldn't have been this tired. Dealing with seven thugs was nothing. But he supposed it made sense. He’d done exceedingly little over the past year other than sitting around reading and drinking. But it was still unsettling to see how far he’d slipped, he obviously needed to establish a training regiment again.

“Neat trick. Save some of the fun for us next time though, jeeze,” Baz laughed, taking a seat next to Daud.

“They had pistols,” Daud pointed out.

“Pahh, coulda taken’ em,” Baz laughed.

“Blowhard,” Daud said with a smirk.

“Damn right. Now let me top off your glass-”

“No.”

* * *

Corvo pulled against his shackles, the metal digging into his hands, raw and bleeding, but he just couldn’t stop himself. The ship heaved and groaned around him, he could feel how turbulent the ocean was, and could only imagine how terrible a storm raged outside. 

He felt like a fool. When he booked passage on the vessel the captain didn’t seem to recognize him. Until the entire crew jumped him in the middle of the night, the sounds of the storm masking their approach.

He would not let these bastards drag him back to Delilah in chains. The last few years were like some sort of faded nightmare. He wasn’t fully awake when she encased him in stone, thankfully. But he was aware, almost fading in and out of consciousness.

He could remember at one point, some witches with skin like bark giggling as one placed a flower crown on his stone hair. He was no longer in the palace, instead in a courtyard. Vines choked the tower to the point it was almost unrecognizable. Countless flowers bloomed bold and enormous all over. Even Corvo had to admit it was beautiful.

“It’s a shame he’s stuck in this pose, he’s pretty handsome…” one said, patting his cheek with a light chuckle. 

“I think he makes a much more dynamic sculpture than if he was standing looking stoic and boring.”

“True…”

It seemed like the next thing he knew it was winter. Silent as the grave, snow covering the dying plants. It was so quiet Corvo swore he could hear the fat snowflakes as they landed on his shoulders. Dunwall was never this quiet…

He learned enough to know that he failed. He failed to protect his daughter. Emily got close to ending Delilah’s twisted reign, but lost the fight in the end. He was consumed by grief, and rage, but as time passed it faded. Eventually he was just left in an unfeeling haze, without even the wherewithal to wonder if he’d ever be free of his stone prison.

It was impossible to say how much time passed, until one day, all at once he fell, no longer stone, crumpling to the ground before he had a chance to catch himself. 

He could hear chanting in the distance, and near maniacal cackling and screeching. A faint glow emanated from somewhere beyond the courtyard wall, and the air was so thick with some sort of magic his mark itched. But he didn’t take the time to analyze the situation, figure out why he was flesh and blood again. He staggered to his feet, moss tumbling off his clothes as he kicked old dying vines from around his legs, and he ran. 

It took a long time to figure out the lay of the land again, and not just because so much of the capitol had been reshaped under Delilah’s demented rule. The empire had been shaken to its core. He woke to find many of the noble families he knew dismantled. Politically, the empire was in a state of disarray, with the Abbey of the Everyman holed up in Morley trying to wage active war against Delilah and her regime, and succeeding in kicking her out of Morley at least. Every powerful merchant seemed to be trying to exploit the power vacuums whenever a noble house disappointed Delilah in some way. None of Corvo’s potential allies were in any position to help. Most weren’t even alive.

It reminded him in many ways of the first time he lost his empress, and his subsequent imprisonment. Locked away, grieving and tortured, until he was suddenly set free on wobbly legs. A horrible need for vengeance tangled with his grief and loss and complete confusion about what to do next. But this time there were no scheming nobles trying to manipulate him. The Outsider was absent from his dreams, with no new cryptic messages to whisper in his ear. And Emily was gone. At least back then, the thought of rescuing her gave him a goal that wasn’t simply bloody revenge. But now he didn’t even have that...his failure to protect her a bleeding wound in his soul he wasn’t sure would ever heal. 

He wanted to take vengeance on Delilah, but as he learned about the state of the empire he had to wonder, what then? What happened after he toppled the witch. What lunatic would step up to take her place? Did he even care? Not to mention, _how_ could he ever hope to succeed? He plunged his blade through her chest, and she shook it off like it was nothing and turned him to stone. Now she was constantly guarded by a swarm of her witches on her own turf. 

Before he could even start to formulate a plan, wanted posters for him sprung up all over Dunwall, and he had to flee. He spent months bouncing from city to city, constantly recognized, constantly on the run.

And now here he was, trapped, on his way back to Dunwall, back to Delilah. He tried everything he could think of to escape his chains. None of his powers seemed to help. But before Corvo could dig too badly into his hands, an opportunity came crawling its way into his prison. 

A rat.

That was one power he hadn’t tried yet. He wasn’t completely positive if it would work, but it was worth a shot. He took a breath as he summoned the void, focusing on the tiny creature. Before he knew it, the world grew immense around him as he possessed the rat, the shackles clattering to the ground. 

He scurried back through the hole the rat came in, and after wriggling through a few passages, soon found himself on the deck, and just in time as he lost his grip over the creature. 

It was dark, with thick storm clouds blocking any moonlight, giving him ample cover. Free or not, there was still a problem. He was on a boat in the middle of a storming ocean, more than a day out to sea. He spotted a small battered knife, probably something for gutting fish sitting out on the deck. He hastily tucked it into his belt as he scanned the boat. What was he supposed to do now? Suddenly he wished he’d thought his plan through a bit more thoroughly, but he didn’t have much time for regret as a sailor spotted him. 

The fight was quick and treacherous, Corvo being pushed up to the deck of the heaving ship, waves regularly splashing over the side. The sailors were little more sure on their feet than Corvo, but lacked his particular skills. He quickly disarmed one, taking his sword, and soon found himself near the helm, the captain in his grip. He held the man from behind, holding a blade to his throat, as one of the sailors trained a rifle on them.

“You’ll take me to the nearest port, or your captain dies,” Corvo barked over the roar of the sea.

The sailor shrugged, and steadied his rifle.

_Shit…_

The captain jerked and Corvo gasped as pain tore through his gut. The captain crumpled in his arms, gasping gurgled curses, as Corvo stumbled back, blood welling across his tunic.

He should have known.

The ship heaved again, tossed by a particularly violent wave, as he stumbled. He faintly heard shouts as the world swam around him, and a great wall of water rose over him.

The next thing he knew he was under water, fighting through the pain in his gut to kick his way back to the surface. He gasped desperately for air when he emerged, rising with a great swell, seeing himself quickly pushed further and further from the ship, before he was dragged back beneath the waves.

So. This was how it ended. Bleeding out, and probably drowning. The inky darkness of the ocean reminding him of the bleak landscape of the void. He struggled to scan the horizon, for the faintest hope they were anywhere near a shore. He could indeed see a few lights winking through the storm, one bright and persistent enough it had to be a lighthouse. But they were much too far away to swim to, even in ideal conditions.

Another wave rolled over Corvo, forcing him under again. He felt something brush across his leg, sending a renewed jolt of panic through him-- sailors said sharks could smell blood in the water for miles. He squinted through the inky water, the salt burning his eyes. He made out a shape with his dark vision, but it was much larger than any shark. 

It was a whale.

A low, mournful sound filled the water, a long, almost melodic groan, followed by a series of thrumming clicks. The immense creature slid gracefully through the water, rolling onto its side, fixing a tremendous eye on Corvo, watching him. 

He reached out in an act of desperation, calling the void, staring at the creature as he had the rat, with no idea of it would work. He clenched his fist, his body fading away to whispers as he glided through the water. Soon he was seeing through the beast’s eyes, the roar of the ocean replaced with the whispers of the void. The water was no longer treacherous and icy, instead comfortable and welcoming.

It was nothing like possessing a rat. He didn’t control this creature. It seemed to sense him. It almost felt...confused by his presence. Amused. Curious. Corvo silently urged it to swim to the distant shore, feeling the enormous tail flex as the creature turned, gliding silently, yet powerful through the water, humoring him.

He couldn’t tell how long he swam, it swam. Longer than he could possess a rat, that was certain. The creature seemingly allowing him along for the ride. Nonetheless, he felt his energy draining the longer he traveled, the longer they swam, the world growing dim and fuzzy. 

The storm seemed to be abating as they grew closer to the light. Suddenly, Corvo was again welcomed by a rush of cold and sound, finding himself back in his body, tossed by the ocean waves. He heard a great expulsion of air and water behind him, glimpsing the whale as it drifted back below the surface, away into the ocean.

When he turned back to the shore, he suddenly realized it was within reach.

Corvo fought through the pain, swimming the last distance to the shore. The massive creature brought him most of the way, but the depths grew too shallow for it well before it became shallow enough for Corvo. The rough seas made it difficult, but he eventually fought his way to shore, a wave pushing him in the final stretch. He staggered in a state of disbelief as he felt sand under his sodden boots. 

“I told you I saw someone!” a shrill voice called. A child. Corvo could barely spare a glance up as he dragged himself ashore, his strength rapidly failing. Who could say how much blood he’d lost to the ocean. He crumpled to his knees, then to all fours.

“Holy shit! Guys! Come here!”

“Is he a sailor? Must have been a shipwreck!”

“Mister! Are you okay?” the voices grew fuzzy as Corvo collapsed, lacking the strength to even respond.

“Look! He’s hurt, we need to bring him to the Surgeon.”

“He’s probably drunk. Baz brought his new batch of ‘shine in-”

“Come on and help me would you!”


	2. Convalescence

“I wonder if she murdered her critics, or just bought up the papers,” Kell said as she, Daud, and Baz shuffled their way through the new load of newspapers. They’d all been slowly getting up to speed since their last shipment. The later issues discussed some of the steps Empress Delilah had been taking to “root out enemies of the state.” This seemed to involve mandatory identification cards in major cities for passing certain checkpoints. Daud could only imagine the massive chokehold the black market would soon have on the lives of people who couldn’t get papers.

Besides the Abbey of the Everyman, a number of groups around the Empire had popped up with strong dissent to Delilah’s rule, to put it charitably. The papers obfuscated the fact quite nicely, but it was easy to read between the lines and tell her answer to these dissenters had largely been murder. While the newspapers seemed to report on some things truthfully, anything related to the Crown and its conflicts seemed to have become Delilah’s personal propaganda machine.

It’s not like Emily or Jessamine happily supported bad press, or never propagandized in their own favor. But the total lack of criticism Delilah faced was conspicuous for its absence.

“I’d venture a guess that it’s a bit of both,” Daud said, shaking his head. 

“This is too depressing. I’m going to grab a bite to eat, you boys want anything?” Kell asked, pushing herself up from the table.

“You got any more of those weird, spicy pickles?” Baz asked with a grin as Daud shook his head.

“Comin’ right up,” Kell said, pausing as she looked Daud over, tilting her head ever so slightly. “You sure you’re good, Daud?”

“I’m good, thanks,” he said, half listening, still skimming over the papers. Of all the things to feel guilty about, failing to kill someone never struck him as something that would come up. But here he was. If only he killed the damn woman when he had the chance…

As soon as Kell disappeared into the back, Baz scooted his chair towards Daud’s, the wooden legs honking loudly across the floor, in stark contrast to his hushed tone as he leaned in. “Hey, I think she’s into you.”

Daud’s gaze finally slid up from the paper, to behold Baz’s conspiratorial grin, his eyes practically twinkling. “...Okay.”

He clasped a heavy hand on Daud’s shoulder, giving it a firm shake. “You should go for it! She’s a fine woman, and a real tiger in the sack.”

“I’ll take that under advisement,” Daud said, trying not to scowl. He didn’t particularly want to know why Baz knew about Kell’s alleged sexual prowess. He’d gathered it was common in the village for folks to sleep around pretty liberally, which was something Daud preferred to have no part of. He supposed it was only a matter of time until Baz or Nadia or someone tried to rope him in to that particular circle of affairs.

“What? You not interested?” Baz wheezed, his eyes growing round.

“Not especially.”

“Wha- _why?_ She’s a fine woman-!” Baz said, his voice starting to raise as he puffed up like some sort of rooster ready to throw down after one of his hens was slighted.

“Yes, she is. She’s clever, resourceful, and lovely to look at. But I’m just not interested,” Daud explained evenly.

“But if you think she’s so great, why…?”

“I’m just not.”

Baz leaned back in his chair, folding his arms, his brow furrowed in contemplation. Then after a few moments he nodded, his brow unstitching. “Ahh, I understand. You’re into blokes.”

Daud sipped his drink and sighed. “Not particularly.”

“So...you are interested in women.”

“No.”

Baz pressed his lips into a thin line, looking Daud over, who was already beyond tired with the conversation. 

“You’ve at least tried it, right?”

Daud scowled at him. “Are you asking if I’m a virgin?”

“...I guess.”

“No. And you’re free to mind your own damn business,” he snapped.

“‘M just asking! Had a bud who didn’t like...anyone either. But I mean, I had to sleep with several guys before I determined I wasn’t interested in them... so...”

Now was Daud’s turn to give Baz an incredulous look. “Several?”

Baz muttered silently as he tallied on his fingers. “Just. Five.”

“How the hell did it take sleeping with _five_ guys to determine you aren’t attracted to men? And are you sure about that conclusion?” Daud asked, giving Baz a critical look as the man slouched and scowled. Served him right for asking so damn many personal questions.

“What the _hell_ did I miss…” Kell asked as she walked back to the table with a plate stacked with bread, cheese, and a small pile of Baz’s requested pickles.

“Sometimes you just wanna get your rocks off and don’t feel like being picky! You know how it is!” Baz said, his voice growing shrill and defensive.

“No. I really don’t-” Daud said, though before the train wreck of a conversation could continue, it was interrupted as the front door burst open, a child running in.

“Guys! Guys! Come quick! We need help! Get Daud! Someone’s hurt!” 

“What? Who’s hurt?” Kell asked, alarmed, while Baz almost looked relieved.

“I don’t know, a stranger. Must be a sailor or something, he washed up on the shore-”

“What were you kids doing on the beach during a storm!” Kell snapped.

“We weren’t! We were just watching, until we saw him. Come quick, he’s really hurt-” she said, rushing forward to grab Daud’s wrist, pulling him towards the door. Daud hesitantly let himself be dragged. The man was a stranger, it was usually policy not to show his face to those. Then again...this seemed like an emergency.

“You sure he ain’t dead? Can’t imagine a sailor’d make it to shore in this weather,” Baz said, also hopping to his feet and following them out the door. 

“No he’s not _dead!_ Come on!”

The three headed out into the pouring rain, and intercepted the children nearly halfway to the inn, a drenched, sagging figure propped up with a teenager under each arm, clearly unable to support his own weight. When Daud got close enough to truly see him, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Outsider’s eyes…” he gasped, at a total loss, as Corvo’s gaze slid up, seeing him for the first time. Recognition flashed across his pale features, and he jerked back, pulling a knife from his belt, so wobbly on his feet the kids tried to catch him, until they saw the blade. 

Daud blinked forward, grabbing the weapon out of his grip. “Now what do you plan on doing with that? Come on, they’re here to help...” Daud barked, but the orders crumbled in his mouth. Corvo’s hands were ice cold, and grip so weak it was a miracle he could even hold the blade, let alone fight Daud for it. Despite the wet and the dark, it was easy to see blood spreading across his simple tunic. From how Daud was used to seeing him, Corvo was practically dressed like a pauper. “Get him inside, he’s lost a lot of blood,” he said to the others, who returned to helping him.

“You know this guy?” Baz asked, pulling one of Corvo’s arms over his shoulder, while Kell took the other side.

“You could say that.”

Kell set her jaw and trudge forward, she at least seemed to recognize him, but wasn’t about to say anything.

The three hauled Corvo up onto a table once they reached the inn, Daud pulling up the man’s shirt, then ultimately just cut it open to examine the wound as Corvo groaned weakly. The man was fading in and out of consciousness, too weak to really put up any sort of fight.

He had a bullet wound in the abdomen, Daud frowned when he saw it. Gut shots rarely ended well. If it hit his stomach he was as good as dead, but it off center, just barely grazing his ribs, with any luck, it might not have hit anything too vital. “You two, help me roll him on his side, you kids, run and get my kit. It’s on the shelf to the right in my room,” Daud barked his orders, fishing his key from his pocket and tossing it to the group. The kids scrambled to catch it, and failed, the key clattering to the floor, but they scooped it up and stampeded off. Meanwhile Corvo grunted as they moved him. “Didn’t go all the way through…” Daud muttered, half to himself.

“You gonna have to take the bullet out then?” Baz asked with alarm.

“That’d probably do more harm than good. Just means I can’t see what angle it entered at, which makes a big difference considering where it is.”

“Can’t you do your freaky eyes thing?” 

“Yes, but it requires concentration so shut up-” Daud hissed, Baz raising his hands and backing away.

Using his void gaze to try and see into people was obviously not its intended use. It also rendered a blurry view, and gave Daud a splitting headache. On Sybil at least it was easy, trying to make out a separate person within her stomach, but organs and foreign bodies were another matter. Still, he was able to make out the faintest dot of something, just as the stampede of children returned, thrusting his medical kit at him.

“Well, it looks like it hit the edge of his liver. So his odds are okay if we can keep him from bleeding out, which remains to be seen...” Daud said, taking the kit and cracking it open. Corvo grunted, though it was hard to tell if he was really hearing or understanding them. His skin was so pale, gray, and clammy, he might as well have been something dead that washed up on the beach. Daud had no idea if he’d already lost too much blood, but all he could do was try to stop him from losing more.

“The chloroform didn’t come in, did it?” Daud asked a little hesitantly as he dug through his kit, pulling out a few glass vials of liquid, and his regenerative bone charm, which he simply set on Corvo’s chest for now. Kell shook her head. “Well shit. Sorry Corvo, this is going to hurt. A lot.” 

“Wait, Corvo? _That_ Corvo?!” Baz asked in alarm.

“Quiet and hold him steady,” Daud ordered, double checking his hand written notes as he began mixing two of the liquids together into a third vial, the mixture hissing softly and steaming. Baz nodded as he and Kell moved to position. 

Daud carefully, but quickly poured the mixture into and around the wound. It hissed angrily, fizzing and steaming as Corvo let out a clenched toothed cry of pain and writhed on the table. To Daud’s dismay, it was harder holding down Sybil after two days of exhausting labor. More than ever, Daud could only hope his efforts didn’t come too late. 

Soon the reaction subsided, leaving a gray green coagulated mass stopping the bleeding. He spent the next while getting the others to bring him things to dress the wound. They also managed to get Corvo to choke down an elixir before he fell unconscious, which was probably for the best. Daud had a few tinctures to help manage pain, but they all unfortunately also suppressed the heart’s function to a degree. After so much blood loss, he was afraid such remedies would kill him.

A quick check for other injuries revealed the raw, bloodied rings around his wrists. Daud had seen those injuries enough times before to know the man struggled against shackles, no question. It helped piece together his story a little bit, escaping from captors, and probably having it go wrong. But it did nothing to explain how the man made it to shore.

Eventually, they’d done everything they could, and Daud found himself behind the bar washing his hands, and again scrubbing blood from under his nails. He’d been thrown off the first time this happened, saving Kell’s daughter and her baby. But this time he couldn’t even think, with too many questions, thoughts, memories clogging his head. He was numb.

As he finished washing, a couple villagers, including the ever recalcitrant Sergio, wandered in.

Sergio walked to Corvo’s side, his cane thumping loudly across the floor as he moved. He leaned over the man with a scowl, then looked up.

“Why is there a dead body on this table.”

“He’s not dead,” Kell snapped. “Is he?” she added a little more hesitantly, hurrying to his side. She placed her fingers to his neck in worried silence for a few moments, then nodded. “Not dead.”

Sergio scowled, poking Corvo in the cheek a couple times, only to have his hand batted away by Kell. “You sure ‘bout that?”

“Yes! Now behave,” she said with a huff.

“We should move him to a bed,” Daud said, finally drying his hands and rounding the counter. 

Sergio huffed, stalwartly ignoring both Kell and Daud as he looked Corvo over. He picked up the unconscious man’s arm, holding Corvo’s marked hand up for Daud to see. “Friend of yours?” he asked with a faint smirk, Daud narrowed his eyes in a glare. It looked like Corvo had wrapped bandages around it to hide it, but in the course of everything they’d come loose, revealing the incriminating marks. Daud didn’t bother hiding his own mark around the village anymore.

“Got a room downstairs that’s vacant. Gonna take me a few minutes to make the bed though,” Kell said, ignoring Sergio.

Daud helped Kell make the room ready. Usually guest rooms were upstairs, this one had been converted to be storage, though the dusty bed remained. He shuffled boxes out of the way while she got new blankets and sheets. Eventually three of them helped move Corvo onto the bed, struggling not to jostle him around too much. Then Kell helped Daud get the man out of his wet clothes. 

Daud sat heavily in a chair when all was said and done, suddenly exhausted. He watched Corvo sleep, his chest rising and falling shallowly. The feeling that there was something more he needed to do kept nagging at him. There were drugs he didn’t have and couldn’t make that could help. Or a blood transfusion, that he lacked the equipment and skills to do. He would have happily donated his own blood if it meant saving the man, but as it was, an attempt would very likely just kill him faster. There was nothing to be done, it was up to Corvo now. But he couldn’t stop himself from sitting, watching, waiting for something to change.

In the main hall he could hear the villagers talking in hushed tones, gossiping about them, about what they’d seen. Trying to piece together the scraps of information Daud let slip about Corvo over the months. If he didn’t talk to them, he knew the rumor mill would just escalate to absurd levels until Corvo woke. If he ever woke. 

Reluctantly, Daud heaved himself back to his feet, giving Corvo’s unconscious form one more critical look. He hadn’t had time to notice the scars as he bandaged Corvo up. Old and faded with time, but still distinct. Many were ragged and twisted, burns as opposed to cuts, some forming twisted trails down his abdomen, not the sort of thing someone got in a fight. No doubt thanks to his time in Coldridge. Daud pulled a blanket over him before he headed out into the gathering space.

All conversation abruptly died the second the villagers spotted him. He silently made his way to the bar, acutely aware of their eyes on him, and poured some of Baz’s latest concoction. This one was pretty good for a change, but that didn’t stop Daud from downing it in one gulp. He poured another fingers worth and walked to the table where the group had consolidated their gossiping. 

Baz stared at him expectantly, while the others did a poor job pretending they weren’t all just talking about him, trying to puzzle things out. He took another sip of his drink and sighed.

“I know you’re all dying to hear it. So here it is. I killed that man’s Empress, the mother of his child, then kidnapped his daughter for some coin. The men who hired me had him framed for her death, and had him tortured. When he had the opportunity to kill me, he decided to spare me, and let me leave Dunwall. You could say I owe him my life.

“He’s one of only a few people I’ve ever met who’s also been marked by the Outsider. And the only one of us who didn’t use his power to become a monster. He’s probably one of the main reasons Emily was a decent ruler. 

“He’s lost a lot of blood and I don’t know if what I’ve been able to do is enough. Someone should stay with him until morning. I am going to sleep, wake me if anything about his condition changes,” Daud finished, drinking down the rest of his liquor and setting the glass on the table before turning and leaving. The group sitting in dumbfounded silence, probably waiting for him to leave before they burst into gossip again. 

He was a little surprised when he couldn’t hear their whispers drifting up to his room as he undressed for sleep. And surprised again when he heard a faint knock on his door. He pulled a shirt back on and answered almost hesitantly. Kell stood at his doorway, looking solemn. 

“We’ll put people on shifts keeping an eye on him. Anything specific we should watch out for?”

Daud shook his head. “Anything, I guess. If he wakes up, his breathing gets worse, he seizes...Dies.” He shrugged.

Kell nodded. “Alright,” she said, beginning to close the door, but hesitated. “And Daud?”

He grunted in acknowledgment, as he turned back to his bed.

“You’re not a monster,” Kell said softly, the door clicking shut before Daud had a chance to respond.

* * *

Corvo stayed unconscious the entire night, and well into the next day. Several villagers took turns watching him, including the children. Even if that entailed Kell scolding them for giggling and messing around in an unconscious, possibly dying man’s room. They seemed fascinated by the opportunity to be in the presence of a “celebrity.” The former Lord Protector was someone they’d heard about from newspapers. People like that never came around. 

Except for Daud. He slowly realized the children’s fear of him initially may have actually been because of his fame as opposed to his infamy. Though they certainly didn’t fear him anymore. A few months after he arrived, the kids pulled a prank by stealing the left shoe of nearly everyone in town, and hiding them in the top of the lighthouse, Daud’s included.

While Corvo may have spent the better part of a day unconscious, Daud barely slept a wink. And when he did sleep he kept finding himself in the gray expanse of the Void. It was hard to say whether they were true visions, or his troubled imagination digging up a facsimile. Probably the latter, given that the Outsider’s infuriating commentary was absent. 

Having Corvo around dredged up memories and feelings around those turbulent times after he killed the Empress. When everything changed. In the end, in many respects, killing Jessamine had about as much of an impact as killing any other noble. Yet simultaneously changed everything.

Though who knows what it would have done to the empire if he hadn’t saved Emily. At least for a little while. Or what would have happened had the Outsider not marked Corvo. 

The Outsider seemed to revel in playing both sides of the conflict. Daud’s mark letting him bring down an empress, then marking Corvo to support one, then not only marking Delilah, but tipping Daud off about her. Who could guess what the black eyed bastard wanted. Probably entertainment. Like a cruel child pitting starving rats against each other, looking to see who will win. Who will cause the most carnage. Corvo had it right, refusing to use his powers to murder and cause mayhem the way Daud had, the way Delilah was still.

Then again, what irony it was that sparing Delilah’s life might have done more harm to the empire than any of his killings. 

Daud was helping himself to the tavern pantry when he again heard children in Corvo’s room, giggling and generally doing a poor job as quiet observers. Then their voices suddenly shifted, growing urgent.

“Mister? Mister! You awake? He’s awake!”

Daud’s heart began to pound, suddenly so on edge he might as well have been in a fight. On the one hand, he was glad, thrilled even that it worked, that Corvo had woken up. That was a fantastic sign, it meant he might actually recover.

On the other hand, it meant he needed to go check on the man. And possibly speak to him. It was foolish to be frightened of such a thing, but he couldn’t deny the anxiety twisting his gut. 

The children burst out of the room, starting to careen upstairs to Daud’s room, before they saw him standing behind the bar. 

“Daud! Daud! He’s awake!” one of the kids exclaimed.

Daud nodded, setting his snack on the counter. “So I heard.”

“What do we do now?” one of the children, who was no older than seven asked urgently, making Daud smile despite himself. So eager to help and so oblivious that they were out of their depth.

“He’ll probably be thirsty, why don’t you fetch some nice fresh water, alright?” Daud asked. The kids almost frantically scrambled out of the building to go fetch fresh water, with a sense of urgency that was entirely unfounded, but charming nonetheless. Daud shook his head as he picked up his medical kit--still resting on the table where he’d left it the night before-- and walked into the room.

As he entered, he caught Corvo in the process of trying to sit up. His skin was still waxy and gray from blood loss, his hair a matted mess from dried sweat and sea water. 

“I wouldn’t move around too much if I were you. The reactant helps seal potential internal bleeding, but it’s a tenuous fix,” Daud said matter of a factly, successfully sounding more relaxed than he felt. Corvo did a double take at his voice, a look of recognition and a wary glare settling onto his features. 

“Are you in much pain?” Daud asked, Corvo remained silent, though it was obvious from the way he winced every time he so much as breathed that the answer was yes. Still, Corvo remained mute, watching him like he expected Daud to attack at any moment. 

The tense silence was interrupted as the three children returned, cups and sloshing pitcher of water in tow. “We got it!”

Duad had to intervene as the kids nearly fought over who could hand Corvo the cup, which the man distinctly did not have the strength to hold himself, and nearly spilled the contents of both the cup and the pitcher on the bed instead.

“Are you thirsty? We brought water!”

“What does it feel like to get shot? Does it hurt?”

“They said there’s a bullet in you! Can you feel it?”

“How did you get to shore? You must be a really strong swimmer!”

“Are you and Daud friends? You have matching tattoos-”

“No, Alder, they’re obviously part of the same gang. My Da’s gang all had matching tattoos-”

The onslaught of questions was so frenetic and so innocent Corvo’s hostile glare crumbled into a weak smile at their wide eyed excitement, while Daud wrestled the water away from them before they caused a disaster.

“Go on, the man needs his rest. Git, you little savages…” Daud shooed them away, with his own half smile. He sighed as they finally filed out of the room, setting the pitcher down on the nightstand. “Children, so innocent…” Daud muttered, half to himself, and was surprised to hear a faint grunt of agreement from Corvo.

“You really should drink something,” Daud said, holding out the cup. Corvo eyed it, and Daud suspiciously. “What? Do you think I recruited them to poison it? If I wanted you dead, you’d have bled out on the sand. Look, I know this is...strange. But I’m the closest thing to a medic this island has.”

The muscles in Corvo’s jaw clenched and flexed as he seemed to think his situation over, before he finally gave the faintest nod. Daud nodded as well, before carefully holding the cup up to his lips. He took a few weak gulps before he coughed, and grimace in even greater pain.

Daud looked around for a few pillows to help prop the man up before they tried again in near silence. Then, once he was done, Daud set the cup aside, eyeing him. 

“Do you remember much from last night?”

Corvo frowned, seemingly staring off into nothing for a bit, before reluctantly shaking his head.

“Figures. You lost a hell of a lot of blood, it’s a miracle you’re still alive. Though the bigger miracle is how you made it to shore. I’ll admit I’m curious how you pulled that off…” Daud mused as he turned to his med kit, pulling out a bottle. He measured off a small portion into an empty glass, then topped it off with a portion of elixir. He held the new concoction to Corvo’s lips, and the man eyed him suspiciously.

“What is it?” He managed to ask, his voice hoarse and weak.

“S&J elixir and small dose of laudanum. For the pain. And so you can sleep. I’d like to give you more, but you’ve lost too much blood. We don’t have too good a supply of elixir either, so we have to ration it a bit...” Daud explained. “But I’m going to need to refresh your bandages, and the glue, which will hurt like hell. And I don’t want you going into shock on me.”

Corvo scowled, he seemed to remember _that_ part of his evening at least. He nodded weakly again, and Daud helped feed him the medicine. Within a few minutes Daud could see his eyes glazing over as the drugs did their job. 

Working on Corvo’s wound was far from painless, but much less miserable than it had been the first time. The cauterizing glue was not the kindest substance, and was sure to leave one hell of a scar, but it was what he had, and it was better than bleeding out. 

As he finished up, Kell appeared, knocking on the doorframe before she entered. She stood at the foot of Corvo’s bed with a warm, welcoming smile. “I’m glad you woke up, we weren’t sure for a bit there. My name’s Kell, I’m the owner of this establishment. If you need anything, let us know.”

“Thank you,” Corvo managed weakly, sounding almost drunk as he fought through the pain and the drugs to stay vaguely lucid.

“Think nothing of it.”

“Where am I?” Corvo asked.

“Little place called Salvage Isle. We’re off the southern coast of Serkonos. We got hot summers and stormy winters, but overall it’s a nice quiet little place. But...I’ll leave you alone to get your rest. Before your doctor here gets cranky with me,” she said with a faint chuckle, smirking to Daud, who realized only at that moment he must have been scowling. 

Corvo murmured something of an acknowledgement as Kell slipped out of the room, and Daud finished packing up his kit.

“Why are you helping me?” Corvo asked as Daud set the bag next to the night stand, might as well leave it in the room with him. 

“Don’t worry, no one here’s a fan of Delilah,” Daud said a little hesitantly. 

“That’s not what I’m asking…” Corvo grumbled, his eyes barely focusing anymore as they slid half shut. Fatigue and opiates taking their toll. 

“...Like I said. I’m the closest thing to a doctor on this island.”

Corvo huffed a small breath, something similar to a laugh, the slightest hint of a smirk twisting his lips. “Doctor…” he murmured, almost sounding disbelieving as sleep overtook him. 

Daud stood in the room a while longer, watching him sleep. He still looked like hell, but even a mere day later, some of his color was returning. Some day soon he’d have his strength back, and Daud would actually have to answer his questions. In the meantime, that meant he should probably try to figure out some answers.

* * *

Daud flipped through a medical textbook, halfheartedly looking for anything else he might be able to do to help Corvo recover, though at this point he was fairly convinced there was nothing to find. 

As the days went by, Corvo’s condition had slowly but steadily improved. Daud’s visits didn’t grow any less awkward, but on the flip side, he kept Corvo relatively heavily drugged. Kell had chided him that keeping Corvo sedated wasn’t going to make the man go away, which was a ridiculous sentiment. He was keeping Corvo sedated because the man refused to stop moving and with a bullet still in his body so possibly lodged in a damaged organ. Not to mention he was clearly in a great deal of pain. He’d have an easier time healing if he could rest.

Nonetheless Daud was looking for alternative answers. He knew Corvo couldn’t remain on the doses of laudanum he’d been getting without some unpleasant side effects cropping up. There was also the problem of the island’s limited resources. Some herbs and substances needed to be imported. But poppies were perfectly content growing in Daud’s small garden, next to his tobacco plants...He honestly couldn’t believe Baz or someone else hadn’t taken up growing tobacco prior to his arrival. 

He even flipped through the yellowed, fragile pages of his mother’s herb journal. It was the only thing Daud had left of the woman. And one of his few long term possessions in general. It, indeed, had many helpful suggestions, but sadly they again were all solutions that were out of reach. Some of the substances he knew grew only on the continent. Maybe the Academy’s greenhouses contained a handful of them, but that obviously wasn’t about to help Corvo.

Baz sat at the other end of the table, his feet propped up on its surface, despite Kell’s many scoldings about that particular behavior. 

“So, if you owed him your life, and now you’ve saved him, that means you’re even, right?” Baz asked out of the blue, interrupting what _had_ been pleasant silence. Sometimes the man’s forwardness was appreciated, even endearing. Sometimes it was not.

“I’m not sure that’s how it works,” Daud grumbled.

“Why not? Seems straightforward.”

“What was I supposed to do? Just let him die?”

“I mean, sounds shitty when you say it like that. But what’d he do? _Not_ murder you? Shit, if every person I decided to not murder owed me their life...Dang a whole lot of people’d owe me,” Baz said with a wheezing laugh. Daud shook his head, running a hand down his face.

“Baz.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re an idiot…”

“I’m just sayin’... Saving him seems a lot more proactive than not getting murdered.”

“Were you always in everyone’s business? Or did it come with small town living?” Daud asked, snapping his book shut.

“I just like knowing what’s going on with my friends is all!”

Daud opened his mouth to spit something back at Baz, but was suddenly knocked off balance. Friends? Of course he’d become friends with these people, especially Baz, despite how annoying he could be. But it struck him. He didn’t _have_ friends. The Whalers were his family in a way, some of them he essentially adopted as street kids, no older than he was when he found himself alone in the world. And like a family, while they were all bound to one another, but it didn’t mean they all liked each other.

There was also always the lingering danger that any one of them would turn on him. Like Billie. Her betrayal hurt more than he thought possible, and made him feel foolish. Family or not, they were a band of killers. He should have seen it coming. Sometimes he wished he’d handled it differently, forgiven her, let her stay. Maybe just made her cut off a finger or something like Lizzy did with her crew. But in the end, short of killing her, there wasn’t any other way, anything else would have just invited even more knives for his back. And she said it herself, sending her away was the best thing he could have done for her. 

Was this seriously the first time he’d had friends since he was a boy? He had business associates he was friendly with, liked even. But were they friends? And since then, just hopping from city to city, trying to keep his head down, he made acquaintances who didn’t recognize him, though still he wasn’t sure he could call them friends. After all, they didn’t really know who he was.

Everything about this was weird. He shook his head. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, speak for yourself you stodgy old grump,” Baz said with a smirk.

Daud rolled his eyes.

* * *

Corvo slowly eased himself out of bed. His wound was sore, but compared to days past it was nothing. The laudanum was doing its job, if not numbing the pain, but making it bearable. It made everything bearable. Even the fact that the Empress’s murderer was apparently playing doctor couldn’t bother him too much. It was strange, this was the second time he’d found himself incapacitated and at the assassin’s mercy. Though this time he hadn’t woken up in a poorly guarded rat infested hole. 

It was a strange, his prison had been easy to escape, too easy. Corvo later grew convinced Daud wanted him to escape. Wanted Corvo to take his revenge, or dole out justice. The man didn’t want to die, but simultaneously thought he deserved it. Many things stayed Corvo’s hand that day, but the paradox of their encounter stuck with him through the years, even as he tried to put it out of his head. And laying alone in an opiate filled haze with Daud occasionally quietly checking in on him wasn’t clearing up Corvo’s feelings on the incident.

While the laudanum numbed a lot, one thing was no longer bearable. Being alone in his room was finally starting to get to him. The first couple days, or he assumed it was the first couple, people had been in his room constantly. The kids were the most entertaining guests. Being woken from a hazy, pain filled sleep by the giggles of children was far more pleasant than being woken by the Empress’ murderer, back to make him choke down more bitter concoctions and tend his wound. Even if those bitter concoctions packed one hell of a punch.

He gingerly shrugged on his shirt, graciously laundered and mended by the woman who seemed to own the building. She was kind. They were all kind. Even Daud, strangely. 

The world was still hazy as he moved, but he couldn’t stand to stay in that room any longer. He slowly made his way to the door, and to the large common area, just in time to hear a commotion. He spotted Kell frantically swinging her broom at something behind the counter, screeching like a woman possessed. Moments later a big, fat, black rat came scurrying around the bar, with Kell’s broom at its heels.

The rat came running straight at Corvo, who slowly sank to one knee without even thinking, reaching out to the small creature. The rat promptly leapt into Corvo’s hand, its whiskers twitching as he lifted it up. It wasn’t a plague rat, just a regular one; healthy, with a clean coat, cleaner than Corvo felt after so many days in bed without a proper bath. He slowly stood, still holding the rat, gently reaching up to pet the creature with his other hand. It was pleasantly soft. 

“Ah...Lord Attano. You’re out of bed…” Kell said, her voice strained. 

“Just call me Corvo…” he murmured, finally looking up from the rat to see her staring at him with round-eyed alarm. 

“You shouldn’t be up and about-”

“I’m not staying in there alone any longer.” 

“Well, seems like you’ve made a friend, so got the alone part covered,” Kell said, her voice still a little unsteady with concern? Fear? Corvo couldn’t tell. The world felt a little light, fuzzy. Let her think what she will, he couldn’t be bothered to care at the moment.

“I wanted to thank you. For your hospitality,” he said, his gaze slowly returning to the rat.

“Think nothing of it. Happy to help,” she said, Corvo barely noticing her approach until she took him by the elbow. “Come,” she said, gently guiding him to the back of the room, near an immense harp. She helped him settle into a surprisingly comfortable couch nearby, keeping a wary eye on the rat as it sat in Corvo’s palm, casually grooming itself.

He could remember hearing music from the harp some point when he faded in and out of sleep. It was beautiful. He almost thought he’d hallucinated it.

“Who plays the harp?” 

“Ah, you heard. Her name’s Amelia. She’s a wonderful musician.”

Corvo nodded, eyeing the immense instrument, the soft satin glow of the wood reminding him of home, standing in stark contrast to the dirty, scuffed and ragged surroundings. “She is. Emily would have loved her…”

“I think she’d be honored to hear that.”

“She didn’t always have patience for all of her more courtly duties. But she had a soft spot for music. They started planning for events to feature excellent music, to keep the Empress’s attention…It didn’t always work,” Corvo murmured, realizing half way through he was speaking to the rat rather than Kell. But she didn’t seem too offended. 

“What the hell is he doing out of bed? And what’s with the rat?” a familiar rasp of a voice asked. Corvo looked up, spotting him. The assassin. His doctor. It was remarkable how much and how little time had changed him. Of course, he had that same ragged scar over his eye. Surprisingly similar hair, though it was now more gray than not. Far more than Corvo’s own hair. He wasn’t quite as lean anymore, but it wasn’t that he’d grown soft either. Over all he somehow seemed less...feral. 

“He just wandered out on his own. And picked up the rat. Hell if I know. He’s so damn wrecked on those drugs of yours I doubt he knows his head from his ass right now,” Kell explained, drawing a vaguely annoyed look from Corvo. “I mean look at his eyes. It’s a wonder he’s not watching the Outsider tap dancing on the bar right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I reduced the dose. He’s obviously getting better. And maybe a little pain will keep him in bed,” Daud grumbled, folding his arms. Corvo scowled. 

“It’s rude to talk about someone like they’re not in the room,” he grumbled.

“That’s the thing though, Honey, you’re not really in the room,” Kell said, patting his arm.

“She’s right, come on Corvo, let’s get you back to bed before you aggravate your wound…” Daud said, moving with the cautious step of someone approaching a skittish animal. 

Corvo glared as he pushed himself to his feet. He then reached out to the void...and reappeared at the other side of the room, near the bar. Kell jumped, while Daud just sighed, his shoulders sagging as he rubbed his forehead. 

“It’s a really bad idea to do that while you’re intoxicated you know. Had a Whaler break both his legs transversing off a bridge while he was drunk.”

Corvo just shrugged, turning his attention to the bar as the rat scurried up to his shoulder. A plate full of large, fist size rolls sat fresh and tempting. Kell must have set them out before she encountered the rat. They looked positively divine, especially after who knows how long of nothing but broth and weak soups. At first he didn’t have much of an appetite, but now it was coming back...and the craving to eat something he could actually _chew_ was borderline overwhelming. 

Corvo grabbed a roll, ignoring the footsteps approaching behind him. He took a massive bite with a satisfied grunt. A little dry, maybe. But with some butter it would be perfect…

“Well, good to see your appetite’s back,” Daud rasped, coming to lean his back against the bar, watching Corvo. 

Corvo eyed him, taking another bite of the roll, remaining silent. 

“I have to ask. Where have you been the last few years?”

Corvo swallowed thickly, almost choking on his overly large bite of roll. Daud rolled his eyes and grabbed a cup and pitcher from further down the bar, pouring Corvo some water. He slid it to the man, who cautiously took a few sips, clearing the dry bread from his throat. “Statuary in Dunwall Tower’s garden,” he said eventually.

“So, it was true…” Daud muttered.

“You...you remember being a statue?” Kell asked from somewhere behind them, sounding alarmed.

“Some of it. Enough of it.”

“I’m so sorry...That must have been terrible…” Kell said, coming around the bar.

“How did you escape?” Daud asked.

Corvo shook his head. “I don’t know. Delilah, I think she was casting some sort of spell. Suddenly I wasn’t stone anymore. No one was around, so I got away.”

“Shit. I wonder what she was doing. I can’t believe how much more powerful she’s become…” Daud muttered half to himself as Corvo continued to eye him, chewing his roll slowly. 

“You knew her before?” Corvo asked after a pause. Daud glanced at him, doing a double take, something unreadable in his expression.

“You could say that. But it was years ago.”

“A friend of yours?” Corvo asked with contempt. Of course, Daud would know the monster who’d taken Emily from him.

“No,” he spat, his lips curling into a disgusted sneer. 

Corvo finished off the roll, half watching Daud out of the corner of his eye. He grabbed another roll, though before he could start in on it, he felt a wave of exhaustion start cascading over him, his wound starting to ache. He swayed a little, Daud catching his elbow the way Kell had earlier. 

“Easy there. You really should be back in bed...come on.”

Reluctantly, Corvo let himself be led. While he didn’t want to return to the solitude of his room, he was suddenly extraordinarily tired. 

With Corvo safely delivered to his room, Daud started to step away, telling him to take his time settling in. Corvo wobbled on his feet, half grabbing Daud for stability, half to keep the man from escaping. His hand slid to the back of Daud’s neck, clenching tight. He almost felt like he was grabbing an angry cat by the scruff, and indeed Daud froze the way he might expect a cat to. Though admittedly, Corvo’s grip was tighter than what he might use on some small animal. 

“Who would have guessed you of all people would try to become some sort of healer,” Corvo said, his tone almost wistful as he stared Daud down. The man had a peculiar look in his eyes, though he seemed to be trying to remain impassive. Something almost fearful lurking under his cold mask of an expression. “Are you trying to make up for everyone you killed?”

“I’m just trying to live.”

Corvo grunted, letting his grip drop, and starting to fall back onto the bed, before Daud caught his shoulders, guiding him down a bit more gently. “Easy.”

“What if I decide to kill you when I get better,” Corvo asked, his eyes casting around the room for the rat. Where’d he go? 

“That would be your decision.”

“So, you don’t mind dying.”

“Actually yes, I do mind. I asked you for my life once before, and I haven’t really changed my stance on it,” Daud said dryly, half to himself, like he wasn’t even talking to Corvo anymore as he rummaged through his bag of tinctures and tools. Corvo laughed, pain shooting through his torso as he did, drowning the amusement out of him. He lay down with a soft hiss.

“Here, eat this,” Daud said, giving Corvo an oversized disk shaped green pill. As Corvo examined the monstrosity skeptically, the man elaborated. “You chew it.”

Corvo shrugged, reaching for it, only to realize he was still holding a roll in one hand. Daud took it, replacing it with the pill. Corvo obediently popped it in his mouth and chewed as instructed, grimacing a few moments later. “Tastes like shit…”

“Yeah, it all does. But it seems you’re probably well enough to start eating more solid foods again. So, you’ll need it.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me.”

Corvo snorted a laugh again. It was so absurd. Trusting _Daud._ But here he was, swallowing down some mystery disk that tasted like fetid grass clippings and dried bitter mash with maybe a hint of something sweet, perhaps in an attempt to make it palatable.

Daud seemed to cast about for a moment, looking at his newly acquired dinner roll. He moved to place it on Corvo’s nightstand, just in time for the rat to reappear, leaping from the bed to the stand, staring up at the roll. The man scowled at the rodent, then sighed. He tore off a small chunk of bread and offered it to the rat. The rat reached up with its little paws, eagerly grabbing the morsel, before scurrying away with it to the far corner of the night stand, where it settled down on its haunches, beginning to devour it. Daud shook his head, placing the rest of the roll on the opposite corner of the night stand next to a cup of water.

Corvo smiled despite himself. The exchange was...cute.

“She said this place was Salvage Isle? Off the coast of Serkonos?” Corvo asked.

“Yes.”

“How did you end up here?”

“I tried to book passage on a ship getting to Karnaca. They marooned me here when they recognized me. Decided to stay.”

Corvo huffed, watching as the rat munched away at its prize. “Odd coincidence.”

“I suppose. Though the island’s along a pretty heavily trafficked route. Just the rocks make it hazardous for ships to actually stop by, so they usually don’t.”

Corvo grunted. It was strange, his duties as Lord Protector meant he’d gained more than a cursory knowledge of the empire and its various isles. He’d served as the empress’s shadow for more than enough meetings talking about every remote corner of the land, but he’d never heard of this island. 

He did know there were some rocky stretches off the coast of Serkonos that were hazardous to ships, particularly during the Month of Darkness. He remembered discussions of banning the use of the trade route during that month for silver shipments after one particularly costly loss. But truthfully, the storms tended to be unpredictable, sometimes starting well before, sometimes ending well after the Month of Darkness, making it impossible to reasonably regulate. Still, it was surprising he never learned there was anyone living out among those rocks. He wondered if the royal tax collectors even bothered to come out here.

Seems like it would make the perfect place for someone like Daud to disappear. And given the circumstances, probably a good place for Corvo to disappear...he doubted Delilah would give up her search any time soon.

“Are there any other inhabited little islands out here?” Corvo asked. 

Daud shrugged. “Not that I know of.”

Corvo nodded, his eyes growing heavy as he continued to watch the rat eat. Its little whiskers wiggling excitedly as it frantically nibbled away. For all the hell the plague rats wrought, Corvo had grown a bit of an appreciation for the creatures. Probably exclusively thanks to the Outsider, and his strange gifts.

“You should get some rest. I’m not giving you any more laudanum for now. Let me know if the pain gets too bad for you to sleep. I have some sleep tinctures as well, but Kell is right, we need to reduce your doses. I think those poppies might have been a bit more potent than I thought…” Daud grumbled the last bit mostly to himself. 

Right. Sleep. Corvo’s eyes slid shut at the suggestion. Sleep did sound like a good idea.

* * *

“I can’t believe this! How could Delilah do this?” Sergio roared, slamming his hand, and the paper down on the table. The old man grabbed his cane in both hands, heaving himself to his feet. “I’ll...I’ll never be able to see my grandchild again if she does this!”

“Looks like she already did it,” Baz pointed out, unhelpfully. Sergio took his cane, and swung it at Baz’s head for the comment, which the man barely blocked with his forearm; he’d no doubt have a good welt later.

“Hey! Don’t shoot the messenger, fuck!” Baz snapped, leaping to his feet, balling his hands into fists.

“What? You gonna punch an old man?” Sergio sneered.

“Yeah! When the bastard beats me with a goddamn cane!” Baz snapped, raising his fist threateningly.

“Gentlemen, please. No fighting in the tavern…” Theo droned from behind the bar, sounding like he absolutely did not care in the slightest. 

Daud sighed as Baz and Sergio started laying into each other in a shouting match, and slid the paper over to himself, scanning the article again, also in a state of disbelief. In Delilah’s continuing efforts to root out enemies of the state, she’d mandated identification and permits as requirements for travel between cities. And the penalties for non-compliance were harsh, especially for captains who willingly ferried “enemies.” It seemed like execution was a baseline, and the penalties only got worse from there. 

“If it weren’t for _you,_ ” Sergio roared, pointing his cane at Daud, “and that damn invalid,” he spat, swinging around to point at Corvo’s room, “ _none_ of this would be happening!”

“Now how the hell do you figure that?” Baz snapped, before Daud could even formulate a response. 

“That incompetent piece of shit lost two perfectly good empresses under his watch, and you had to go and kill one of them!”

“Go to hell, Sergio,” Daud spat, as he shoved himself to his feet, hands braced against the table, suddenly also feeling the need to punch the lights out of an old man. 

“Already going there,” Theo’s soft, almost singsong voice chimed unhelpfully from the bar. 

“Why the fuck you so mad at them, Sergio? At _me?_ Delilah’s the one’s doing the bullshit!” Baz asked.

“Besides, it’s not that different from before. It’s not like she didn’t already hire smugglers to come visit. Won’t be long before there’s plenty of black market permits too,” Daud pointed out. The grandchild Sergio seemed so distraught about visited about once a year, usually onboard a smuggling vessel. Crime seemed to run in the family.

“Of course neither of you wouldn’t understand. You’ve rotted your brains straight out your damn ears with that swill you call liquor. And you. Assassin. Probably don’t even have a soul to begin with. Neither of you’s got anyone that cares about you, no family on the outside of this shithole. You just get to hang back and blow each other while the rest of us worry about the world burning down,” Sergio snapped, stomping his way to the door, his cane thumping against the wood floor so hard it was a wonder it didn’t leave dents.

“You get back here you old piece of shit-” Baz started, going after him, before Daud reached out through the void and snagged the man, dragging him back. Baz let out an alarmed squawk, finding himself back at the table, Daud grabbing his shirt to hold him in place.

“Let him go cool off…” he grumbled. 

“Crotchety old bastard,” Baz huffed as the door slammed shut, quiet settling over the space as Sergio disappeared.

“Wait...are you two fucking?” Theo asked, sounding lightly amused.

“No,” Baz and Daud barked in unison, both turning on the obnoxious wretch. 

Theo raised his arms in surrender, a crooked smirk on his face. “You make a gross couple.”

“You’re a choffer, Theo. Damnit. I’m going for a walk,” Baz grumbled, stomping off towards the door. 

“Just don’t fight Sergio while you’re out there. I don’t want to have to patch him up,” Daud called half heartedly as he sat back down at the table. Baz grumbled something inaudible and probably unflattering under his breath and waved Daud away. 

“You’re really dedicated to this whole new...pacifist doctor life, aren’t you?” Theo taunted from the bar. Daud turned an icy glare on him, what little color the fair man had draining away under the look.

“Keep testing my patience and we’ll find out how dedicated I am,” Daud growled. 

“R-right. I’m going to go. Inventory the cellar,” Theo said, scurrying away. 

Daud leaned his elbows on the table with a heavy sigh. He rested his head in his hands, rubbing his face and eyes after a few moments, trying not to let Sergio’s words get to him. _Was_ this his fault? It certainly wasn’t Corvo’s. What was he supposed to do to stop Daud before the Outsider marked him? What was he supposed to do against Delilah now that she was so powerful? What was _anyone_ supposed to do?

On numerous occasions Daud thought about going back and finishing what he started. But he had no idea what he was supposed to do to stop her. Rumor had it Corvo stabbed the woman right through the chest, and she pulled it out like it was nothing. He tended to believe the rumor, but Daud didn’t have the faintest idea how she managed. Maybe she left her soul in the Void. 

“What did I miss? I heard yelling…” Corvo asked, Daud glanced up to see the man standing a few steps out of his room, looking around, confused. No doubt expecting to find more than Daud alone at a table. He looked tired, disheveled. His hair was greasy, tangled, and growing a little over long. It was almost as long as it had been the first time they met, but fashions had changed for someone in Corvo’s station. Daud suspected he simply hadn’t cut it since finding himself flesh and blood again.

The last couple weeks his beard had also made significant progress. It actually...looked good, though he suspected Corvo would disagree, considering the way he’d absentmindedly scowl and scratch at it. Admittedly, especially considering the scruffiness of the rest of his appearance, the beard needed some tidying. It really added to making Corvo look like a mess. 

Corvo was making slow but steady progress towards recovery. Though he was still on the unhealthy side of pale, and certainly didn’t move with the strength his frame would suggest. At least his muscles hadn’t withered while being encased in stone.

“Not much. Just some bad news, and Sergio being a cranky old bastard…” Daud said as Corvo’s frown deepened. He moved hesitantly to the table where Daud sat, looming.

“What happened?” 

Daud found himself relieved that Corvo hadn’t made out the contents of the argument. Particularly Sergio’s cruel accusation against him. He gestured for Corvo to sit, which the man did, albeit reluctantly, and slid the paper to him.

“Delilah gave a new proclamation,” he explained.

Corvo scowled down at the paper for a moment, then slid it back to Daud. “I can’t read this.”

Daud blinked at him, with wide eyed shock. “What do you mean you can’t-”

“I didn’t think to pack my reading glasses when I was on the run,” Corvo grumbled.

“Ah…” Daud breathed a sigh of relief, and understanding. He explained the proclamation, only making Corvo pepper Daud with questions. Eventually Daud just found himself reading the proclamation, and accompanying article in its entirety, Corvo’s scowl deepening with every word. 

Daud had no intention of leaving the island any time soon, but he could only assume Corvo wanted to be on his way as soon as possible. It would have proved difficult to find a way off the island either way. But the news certainly meant it would be even harder, until they found some reliable smugglers. If such a thing even existed. 

Corvo seemed to sag even heavier in his chair. Daud watched him, biting his lip. “No offense, but you look like shit.”

Corvo tossed him a flat glare, but still self consciously ran a hand through his tangled hair.

“You’re probably well enough to visit the bathhouse if you want. Would just need to make sure you had fresh bandages after.”

“This village has a bathhouse?” Corvo asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. 

Daud nodded. “It’s more like a bath-shed. And a sauna. I guess. But yes. There’s a scalding hot spring deeper in the island, some clever folk managed to route the water a bit closer to the village. By the time it’s at the bath house it’s usually a manageable temperature. It’s pretty nice, honestly.”

Corvo drummed his fingers on the table with a deep scowl, then finally sighed. “I’d kill for a bath…”

“Great, then I’ll show you the way.”

After gathering up some soap and a towel for Corvo, along with Daud’s own shave kit- he suspected the man would appreciate a shave- they set off. 

Interacting with Corvo was still strange and uncomfortable, but was growing easier by the day. Or at least more bearable. Daud felt he owed it to Corvo to help where he could, including making his unfortunate stay a pleasant one.

The bathhouse was a ways into the woods behind the inn, but not so far that Daud had to worry about Corvo exhausting himself.

“Oh. I should warn you. There’s about a fifty percent chance a woman named Nadia is already there, and stark naked. With no regard for her own modesty or anyone else’s,” Daud said, realizing half way through explaining it how odd it was, especially when Corvo gave him a particular look, eyebrows slowly creeping higher as he spoke. Daud had become so used to the villagers and their eccentricities that the local exhibitionist was just a fact of life, and nothing to be concerned about anymore. At least Nadia had nice breasts?

Thankfully as they approached, they did see Nadia, clothed and leaving, scrubbing a towel against her wet hair. She smiled brightly, spotting Corvo.

“Hey! Stranger! Good to see you on your feet. I’m Nadia. I think we met before, but...you were _really_ out of it so…” she said, striding forward, hand extended with a bright smile.

Corvo eyed the woman, the faintest frown curving his lips as he cautiously shook her hand. “You look familiar…”

“Oh? So you do remember!” 

“No... You said your name was Nadia…? You’re...Nadia Ornsmith,” he said slowly, blinking, as Nadia’s eyes grew round.

“You know me?”

Corvo nodded, withdrawing his hand and folding his arms, still studying the woman. “Yes, I was familiar with all the threats in Dunwall. It was my job.”

Nadia’s grin widened and she seemed to virtually glow, her hand fluttering to her heart. “You? Corvo Attano. Thought I was a threat? The _Crown_ considered me a threat?” she said, her voice raising into an excited squeal, bursting with pride. “I was a threat! I have to tell Sine. I can’t believe-” she laughed, nearly dropping her towel, before bundling it to her chest, bouncing like an excited schoolgirl. “The Crown thought I was a threat!” she yelled, bursting into a run down the path, apparently to go tell her friend, as Corvo stared after her in dumbfounded silence. 

“Well...at least she was wearing clothes,” Daud offered as Corvo turned his tired, confused gaze on him. The man just shook his head, and shuffled the remaining distance to the bath house. “Remember you’ll need fresh bandages when you’re done. Try not to scrub your wound or anything,” Daud called as Corvo waved him away. He shrugged, Corvo’d been injured before, surely he knew how to not reopen his wound in the bath. 

When Corvo returned to the inn he looked significantly more human again; clean shaved, hair detangled and neat, and Daud swore even some of his color had returned. Though he did look exhausted. 

His bullet hole was healing beautifully. Hopefully within a week or two, Corvo would be out of danger, if not fully healed. The toll of repairing such a wound probably would leave him weakened for weeks to come. Not to mention whatever being stuck in stone for years then being malnourished and on the run did to him. 

Daud smoothed the last of the bandages, securing them in place before he straightened, and Corvo slumped even further, his hair hanging in his eyes. The man scowled, halfheartedly trying to push the hair behind his ears, only to have it immediately fall back.

“We have something of a barber in town. His name’s Gregory. Can point you his way if you want to take care of that. He’s a bit odd, but he’s pretty good with his scissors.”

“I have no money to pay him,” Corvo muttered.

“Don’t worry about it. You’re a guest here.”

Corvo’s eyes narrowed as he laid down slowly, but he nodded. “I might visit him tomorrow then.”

“Don’t push yourself. Whenever you’re up for it,” Daud said. Corvo watched him, with a look in his eye like he wanted to ask a question. He no doubt had many questions. Hell, Daud had a lot of questions, but instead they just fell into an awkward silence before Daud excused himself, and again ordered Corvo to get some sleep.

* * *

Trips to the bathhouse became a blessedly regular occurrence as Corvo slowly recovered. It was a unique little building. The pipping hot water trickled in at one end and constantly ran through the building, splitting off, and trickling out the other side, keeping the baths fresh pretty much all the time. 

At the back lay a central pool, ringed with benches, that could fit a good handful of people comfortably, while along one side sat two smaller tubs with privacy screens and mirrors, presumably for actually bathing, and anyone who was concerned about modesty. 

The hypothetical person concerned with modesty clearly was not Nadia, who Corvo managed to see in all her natural glory on his third trip, simply lounging on a bench reading a book. He wasn’t sure if the fact that she was quite good looking made the situation more or less awkward.

Corvo thought living under the same roof with Daud would prove to be the most trying, and strangest part of his stay in the village. As it turned out, he was mistaken. A vaguely haunted ex assassin turned healer was positively normal compared to a deranged heretic who muttered the structures under his breath while his hands were powdered in whale bone dust. Or an ex smuggler who seemed to have a borderline allergic reaction to wearing clothes. Or the fact that the barber seemed like a perfectly normal and even well groomed gentleman, who nonetheless communicated exclusively with gestures, grunts, hisses, and meows, a detail Daud entirely neglected to warn him about. 

But his haircut turned out fine so who was he to worry about it. Though he did have to wonder how the villagers knew his name. Or if they’d simply named him...

Daud assured Corvo his inability to pay the villagers was nothing to be concerned about due to the fact that he was a “guest.” However, he noticed coin never seemed to exchange hands generally. They made sure Corvo was securely locked away and hidden in his room when “strangers” stopped by, and he was fairly certain he heard the jingle of coin outside his room then. But it seemed like the villagers were constantly just taking whatever they felt like from the inn’s pantry.

And it wasn’t just Kell and her inn. He also overheard some of the villagers visiting Daud, who also didn’t seem to pay him anything. Memorably he heard the assassin objecting loudly when a villager who’d been in two days prior tried to show Daud his “disgusting rash” again, and Daud giving borderline angry instructions to go away and keep applying the salve. The man’s bedside manner was not as bad as Corvo would expect, but clearly wasn’t flawless.

Though it’s not as if Corvo himself could claim to be the normal one out of the bunch. He didn’t fully remember why or how he ended up adopting a pet rat. But the children took almost more of a liking to the creature than he did, crafting the thing tiny furniture, and cobbling together a miniature “house” for it to live in. It came and went on its own time, but Corvo couldn’t help but smile when he handed it small morsels to eat, and its whiskers wiggled with delight. 

One day the inn was remarkably quiet. Corvo suspected the sunlight pouring through his window might have something to do with it. It seemed unseasonably warm, even for Serkonos. Regardless, it was an excellent opportunity to go outside, maybe explore the island a little. He finally was regaining some energy, and while his bullet wound still hurt if he pushed himself too far, a short stroll would be nothing.

Whatever substances Daud used on his wound bleached the skin around the hole in an unsettling way, and Corvo suspected it would leave one hell of a scar; but he was healing quickly, far faster than he’d expect from the kind of injury he received. He’d watched plenty of men under his command die from far less. A bullet to the abdomen was rarely anything other than a death sentence. Daud said he got lucky, but as much as he hated to admit it, Corvo couldn’t help but think part of that luck was having a strangely knowledgeable doctor. 

The village was a surprisingly beautiful place, bathed in sunlight, with the backdrop of lush jungle on one side, and the glistening sea peeking through the trees on the other. Even if most of the buildings were little more than shacks. Small gardens littered the spaces between buildings, with clotheslines stretching over them, laundry swinging in the breeze, bringing even more color and life to the area.

A small strip of jungle separated the village from the shore, the trees no doubt serving as a buffer from the horrible storms. As he approached the beach, he heard voices and laughter. Out on the sharp, glittering black volcanic sands was a group of villagers, including Daud, Nadia, Baz, Kell’s teenage daughter, and a smattering of others Corvo either didn’t recognize or didn’t yet know by name. 

Someone had drawn a large circle in the sand. Two shirtless men, Baz and an unknown villager, sparred within its border. The others watched, sometimes cheering, or jeering as they fought. After a few moments, Baz managed to throw his opponent from the ring, gloating loudly and throwing his arms up in victory. 

“I’m next!” Nadia cried as she leapt to her feet up off a large hunk of driftwood. The second she stepped into the circle she whipped off her shirt, throwing it back to a woman who remained seated on the log. Baz did a double take, taking a couple steps back as Nadia struck a fighting stance. Corvo snorted as a number of the other villagers laughed. It probably would have been more shocking if it was the first time any of them had seen her breasts…

“What? Why’d you go take your shirt off?!” Baz squawked.

“All the fighters have been doing it!”

“I can’t fight you with your tits out!” Baz sputtered as Nadia bounced on her toes, fists raised and ready. They were a ridiculous match up, and somehow the fact that they were both shirtless highlighted their massive size discrepancy. Baz had to be twice as broad as the lean woman, and a full head taller.

“Why not? Scared?” she asked, taking a few shots which Baz managed to narrowly block or dodge. 

“Shit’s distractin’!” he protested. 

“What, you mean like this?” she asked, throwing her arms wide, and shimmying--which successfully drew Baz’s full attention to her chest--before she swung with a fierce right hook, catching the man square in the jaw, knocking him clean off his feet and out of the ring. Nadia raised her fists in triumph with a whoop, while Baz swore and scrambled in the sand, and Daud doubled over with laughter nearby. 

Now that was a strange sight, of all the things Corvo had seen in the village. Daud laughing, sincerely laughing. Corvo wasn’t sure how he felt about it.

Baz, however, was sure. Spitting and swearing, and throwing a fist full of sand in Daud’s face.

“You think it’s so damn funny! You fight the witch next! Fuck! Think the bitch dislocated my jaw...”

“Shouldn’t get distracted so easily,” Daud wheezed. 

Corvo couldn’t make out the rest of the conversation as everyone seemed to start talking and laughing at once, about different things. Though it was clear from body language, Baz was still pretty angry, and Daud still heartily amused, clapping the man on his shoulder, only to have his arm batted away, prompting Daud to start laughing again. Eventually they seemed to decided it was in fact Daud’s turn to fight, the man heaving himself off the sand reluctantly, brushing off his pants before stepping into the circle.

“Shirt,” Nadia barked, gesturing for him to take it off. Daud scowled.

“Why…”

“I don’t make the rules old man, I just enforce them. And no cheating with magic!”

“That was _one_ time,” Daud protested as he tossed his shirt aside. 

Corvo shouldn’t have been surprised at the number of scars marking the man’s body, even at a distance, but he was. He wondered at the stories behind them, the man seemed damn near untouchable for most opponents, though most seemed quite faded with time. Perhaps they were from before he was marked. Corvo’s eyes couldn’t help but linger on one of the more distinct scars, a mark on his side, the only one he truly knew the story behind.

It was also a little surprising how fit and well-muscled he still was. The man was close to his own age, so had to be pushing sixty at least. Despite the gray in his hair, he still looked like a fierce opponent. 

Nadia sank into a fighting stance, and didn’t bother with any of the taunting she’d laid on Baz. Indeed, Daud didn’t seem the least bit distracted by his opponent’s state of undress either. 

It was a good fight, Nadia proved to be a remarkably scrappy opponent. Daud wasn’t as immense as Baz, but she was still faced with a healthy weight discrepancy. She used many of the same techniques Corvo taught Emily for dealing with larger opponents. But ultimately, Daud got the upper hand, and sent her sailing from the ring with a spectacular throw, the woman cursing, but conceding with considerably more grace than Baz had. Daud leaned down to clasp her arm, helping haul her back to her feet.

Daud brushed sand off her now red and irritated looking shoulder, his words lost in a cacophony of voices again, though from his gestures he seemed to be giving her advice on technique. 

“Hey, Stranger! Come join us! No need to loom over there,” one of the villagers called, waving at Corvo. He froze like a startled deer as half the group turned to him, several waving him over. He noticed Daud’s expression as the man finally caught sight of Corvo, whatever he’d been saying to Nadia dying on his lips, as all of his former mirth drained out of him. 

Corvo waved halfheartedly. “No, thank you. Just...passing through,” he said before sliding away back into the tree line. He continued his walk, his feet carrying him away from the beach far faster than they had getting there, until he nearly bumped into Kell. The woman smiled warmly, brushing dirt off her hands as she stood to greet him, a pile of freshly harvested leeks laying beside her. 

“Corvo! So good to see you up and about,” she said.

Corvo half bowed, nodding. “It’s good to be out. It was getting pretty dull staying in bed all the time.”

She grinned at him. “I can imagine. And you look great. Sergio thought you were a corpse when you washed up. Can’t say I disagreed. Now you look downright respectable!”

Corvo huffed half a laugh, smiling. “Thanks. I know I’ve thanked you before, but I really appreciate your hospitality. I don’t know how to repay you.”

“Well you can start by helping me carry these leeks back to the inn,” she said, scooping up a pile of the alliums and handing them over to Corvo. He gathered them awkwardly in his arms, while Kell picked up the rest. “Seriously though. We take care of each other around here. And it sounds like you might be stuck here a while. I’m sure we’ll find a use for you...I don’t suppose you know anything about bricklaying?”

“I’m afraid not,” Corvo said as they made their way down the path back to the inn. 

“Damn. Not surprised. Really need a mason to wash up here one of these days.”

“I don’t know how long I’ll be staying…” Corvo said after a few beats, thinking. He planned to leave pretty much the second he could walk again, but he’d come to see the wisdom of waiting until he was at least fit to defend himself. He wasn’t quite there yet. Probably wouldn’t be for a few weeks at least.

“Why? Or I guess how? Got a plan for gettin’ off the island? A lotta folks will be real excited if you know some smugglers reliable enough to pull it off. ‘N you’ve been a garden gnome for a couple years,” Kell pointed out, taking the wind out of Corvo’s sails. 

“I’ll...just have to figure something out.”

“Why the big rush? What, don’t like us?” she teased.

“I just. Don’t think I can stay.”

“It’s because of Daud, isn’t it?” 

Corvo set his jaw. It was no surprise his motives were so transparent. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that what happened between them could cause Corvo to want to stay as far away as possible.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear it. But that was a long time ago. He’s a good man now,” Kell offered, her voice surprisingly soft, almost wistful. “I’m sure he wouldn’t agree with me on that, but...when he walked into my inn? I damn near refused him a room. But thought I’d be inviting trouble if I did. Not like we’d be able to get rid of him. Or take him out. But he kept his head down, was a model guest. Gave a good tip for his room too. 

“Then my daughter...she was giving birth. But, it wasn’t going well. My baby girl wasn’t long for this world. And he offered to help. It was terrifying. Sliced the child right out of her belly, and patched her up. They _both_ survived. Not to mention the time he saved us from some pirates without killing a soul. Can’t say he didn’t spill any blood, but only so much even a witch can do against a bunch of heavily armed pirates,” she said with a chuckle. 

He had a hard time imagining someone classifying the assassin as a “good man.” Or him miraculously saving a pregnant woman and her child. Even after Corvo’s own care at his hands…

“Doesn’t change what he did,” Corvo grumbled.

“No, it doesn’t. And I know it’s...different when someone’s wronged folks who are close to you. But damn near every criminal’s wronged someone. But you know? Folks like you’ve wronged a whole lot of us too, but we’ve got no justice for that. The world chewed up and spit out many of the folk on this island. Got men and women going gray in exile for deeds they did while they were young and starving. Not all of us were lucky enough to win a tournament as boys and be granted station,” Kell murmured, her voice turning acidic. Corvo winced. He liked to believe he wouldn’t have ended up a criminal. But only the Void knew what would have become of him if he hadn’t won that tournament. Had he been a little slower that day, a little stiffer. At the very least he wouldn’t have ended up with an empress for a daughter. 

“You’re right…” Corvo conceded after a time, shaking his head. “It just feels like a betrayal to Jessamine not to hate him.”

Kell smiled sadly at him. “Ahh, I understand,” she said, shuffling her leeks into the crook of one elbow so she could pat Corvo’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come off unduly harsh. But you can’t let the dead rule your life. A lotta folk here do, and it doesn’t do anyone any favors.” 

Corvo frowned. He was used to people asking if something was what ‘Jessamine would have wanted.’ She was a good woman, or, was for the most part. Even Corvo had to admit she had her flaws. It was easy to view the past through a rose-tinted lenses, and see her only in her best light. 

Even then, completely disregarding the sentiment of honoring her will felt foreign. He was shocked when even Emily decided to disregard her mother’s wishes, revealing publicly that Corvo was her father; a secret her mother perhaps did not keep too closely guarded, but valued nonetheless...while their relationship was not the great romance some believed it to be, Corvo was no less devoted to her. But Kell was right. She was dead, nothing would change that. His life was his to live.

“You know, usually if some aristocratic type like yourself washed up here, I’d be putting you on the first shit filled cargo ship out of here, stupid travel laws be damned. But Daud thinks pretty highly of you, so I’m inclined to believe you’d be worthy of his regard.”

Corvo blinked. Out of all his time ruminating on Daud, what happened, and why Corvo felt compelled to let him go...what Daud thought of _him_ never really crossed his mind.

“What are all the leeks for?” he asked, desperate to change the subject, suddenly feeling fatigued and borderline ill. After fifteen years, the feelings were still raw. But ironically, he did feel ready to forgive Daud, to an extent. He’d spared his life once, and it seemed Daud had taken Corvo’s second chance and really changed. Though the idea of actually forgiving him, living under the same roof as him, still felt like a betrayal to Jessamine. To Emily.

“I’m making an enormous batch of my _fantastic_ potato leek soup. I know you’re probably sick of soup but it is _wonderful,_ ” Kell said brightly, apparently happy to indulge the subject change. “That’s it! I know how you’ll pull your weight around here. Think you’d be up to peeling some potatoes?”

Corvo smiled. “It would be an honor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Thank you guys for the warm welcome to chapter one! I have no idea what semblance of a posting schedule I'll have for this, but hey, here we are. I have plenty more in the works, some's written, some not. We'll see how it goes.  
> -So much stuff this chapter: Kell becoming convinced Daud's gay, Corvo has an existential crisis about trust when Daud just didn't want to tell him the wafer was a laxative, and more!  
> -Also Baz is a disaster and i'm not sorry  
> -I decided to bump the rating up to M not because i'm gonna get graphic anywhere, but because I have some stuff later that's like...borderline? Barely? Depends on your teen i guess...idk how to use these ratings usually my stuff is explicit so i don't have to worry about it hahaha


	3. Comradery

Daud leaned on the railing on the walkway outside of his room, overlooking the tavern space. The harpist was practicing below, the half finished songs and cautiously plucked notes drifting up to Daud’s room, interrupting his studies. 

Usually he wouldn’t be bothered in the slightest, he enjoyed hearing her practice. But a few of those hesitantly plucked lines kept ringing in his ears, harkening back to something he could barely remember, and could not place for the life of him. 

The melody came together as she worked her way through the sheet music, though the timing was all wrong, the flow stilted and halting. It seemed like a simple melody, yet a difficult composition. 

Eventually she seemed to give up and move on, prompting Daud to finally head down the stairs. He was a little surprised to see Corvo lounging on the sofa behind the harpist. He looked… extremely bored. Letting his rat scurry from palm to palm as he listened to the woman play. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t disturbing you, was I?” the harpist asked when she spotted Daud. 

He shook his head. “Not at all. I was just curious what you were working on, just now.”

She picked the sheet music up, holding it out to Daud. “Pretty, isn’t it? Haunting, almost.”

Daud took the sheets, even though he never learned to read music, he slowly leafed through the pages. The title was, unhelpfully, a word he didn’t recognize. “I swear I’ve heard it somewhere before, but can’t quite place it…”

The harpist’s eyes went round at that. “Really? I asked them to bring me something unusual. I guess it’s an arrangement of some folk song from Pandyssia. I didn’t even know there were any Pandyssian songs...”

With that, Daud finally made the connection, and the memory came flooding back. He flipped back to the title, the word familiar now. Not remotely how he would have spelled it, but one he’d heard, if not one he understood. 

“That’s what it is...my mother used to sing it when I was a boy…” Daud said distantly, he could hear her voice like it was yesterday, the melody finally falling back in place in its entirety. She liked to sing while she worked.

“Your mother was from the continent?” the harpist gasped, staring at Daud in wide-eyed amazement.

“She was from an island. But it was far closer to Pandyssia’s shores than the Empire’s.”

“That’s remarkable! Have you ever visited? Do you have family there?”

Daud frowned. “No, I haven’t. And not that I know of.” She looked so excited, it was almost unfortunate to have to disappoint her.

“So your father must have been from the Empire? Did your mother fall in love with a sailor?” she asked, clasping her hands to her chest, with starry eyed delight. Daud scowled.

“I was conceived out of either an exchange of coin or violence. She never specified which, but I have my guesses,” Daud said, causing her to deflate abruptly, her delighted smile crumpling into a vaguely horrified frown. “Sorry.”

“N-no, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have made assumptions. Or pried.”

“Don’t worry about it, I look forward to hearing it when you’ve got it down,” Daud said, handing the music back. 

The woman smiled up at him almost sheepishly, her cheeks flushing pink. She tucked the sheets away in her bag, and then started gathering up the others she’d been working on, packing up.

“You don’t need to quit on my account…” Daud said, a little dismayed.

“N-no! No. I just remembered I was going to meet Korovin,” she said, before hurriedly excusing herself, scurrying away. Daud sighed. She was a flighty, sensitive girl. It was no wonder his story upset her.

“You know, you could have just lied and said yes,” Corvo said from the couch, startling Daud. He’d nearly forgotten the man was there. Corvo had stopped juggling his rat, and now had his full attention on Daud, the rodent perched on the back of the sofa, grooming its ears.

“The way stories travel in this town, I’d never hear the end of it,” Daud grumbled, folding his arms.

Corvo nodded. “Fair.”

Daud eyed Corvo. “You look bored.”

“What gave you that idea.”

Daud rolled his eyes, before noticing the end table, where a new newspaper and a magnifying lens he’d lent to Corvo lay. The day before a boat pulled into port with boiler troubles, it seemed Kell managed to talk them into handing over their latest papers as part of their payment. 

“Any luck getting the lens to work?” 

Corvo shook his head. “No. And Kell’s reading glasses give me a headache, Tylina’s are too weak, and Sergio…”

“Is an asshole who’s not worth asking?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, new shipment is supposed to be coming in soon. Did you put them on the request list?” Daud asked.

Corvo shook his head with a scowl. Figured. Corvo was probably barely out of bed last time they’d put in an order. He probably didn’t think he could even if he had the presence of mind to think of it.

Daud grabbed the paper off the table and settled in at the other end of the sofa. He hadn’t had a chance to read over it either. “Looking for any specific news?”

“I guess if Delilah has any new terrible proclamations…”

Luckily, Delilah did not have any new proclamations. Daud ended up reading through the headlines, to see if there were any articles Corvo was particularly interested in, and reading them aloud. Ultimately, he ended up reading nearly the entire paper to the man, Corvo occasionally making frustrated injections at the decidedly pro-Delilah slant the publication had. Daud couldn’t help but agree. 

The entire exchange was...actually quite pleasant. Their mutual hatred of Delilah probably only added to the enjoyment. It was almost as natural as chatting with any one of the villagers, their unfortunate past not looming quite so heavily for once. 

When the shipment came, it predictably did not have reading glasses. Nor did the next, despite Corvo’s request; their sources weren’t always the most reliable folk. Instead, Daud found himself in a routine, reading the papers to Corvo as they lounged around the inn, exchanging commentary on current events. 

In many ways, Corvo’s presence started to fall into the strange rhythm of life in the village. Another idiosyncrasy he took for granted, or even valued. As Corvo regained strength, he wound up doing more and more manual labor for the villagers, particularly the small group of anglers who Daud, admittedly, didn’t know quite as well as some of the others. But it made sense, they were a quiet bunch, so Corvo fit in perfectly. 

And the fact that he could possess sea creatures and retrieve lost gear probably didn’t hurt.

Like Daud, Corvo found himself staying on the island far longer than he intended. Unlike Daud, however, he actually had a good reason. None of their smugglers were terribly interested in trying to move human cargo, apparently enforcement of Delilah’s new law had been pretty strenuous. 

For a perfectly innocent villager it would be risking their necks. For someone like Corvo...they didn’t even bother to ask. Their motive to welcome him onboard and just immediately turn him in were immense: it would probably be the only way to avoid execution if they got caught, and they’d get his bounty. Not to mention, someone like Daud had better odds than Corvo of not being recognized. Even with his distinct scar, his wanted posters were still of a man in his thirties. Corvo’s likeness, however, was him down to the last forehead crease. It was of such high quality Daud wondered if there’d been some royal portrait done shortly before Delilah took power.

Some weeks later, Daud again found himself out in the forest playing dice as the village received a shipment. Corvo and Daud ended up making their way down the path together, musing about whether or not Corvo’s reading glasses would finally arrive. Daud wasn’t about to admit it, but he’d almost be saddened if they did. He’d come to enjoy reading to the man, as ridiculous as it was.

At first the group was a little dubious including Corvo, given the man’s former station. But then everyone realized he was just as much of an outlaw as the rest of them, if for different reasons, and welcomed him in. Corvo, for his part, was wise enough to keep his mouth shut if any talks of criminal pasts or activities came up. The group certainly weren’t going to change their behavior on his account, or his sense of decency. Though most of them didn’t know some of the...less glamorous things Corvo did back during the first coup.

Naturally, however, Sergio became a passive aggressive twit about having him around. He’d been getting worse and worse lately. It was grinding on everyone’s nerves, but he seemed particularly eager to lash out at Daud every chance he got. And they encountered each other far more than Daud would prefer; Sergio came to him for analgesics regularly, complaining about his arthritis, which he claimed had been flaring up more and more lately. With Daud’s position as doctor for the town, he managed inventory of all of the medicines--another point of Sergio’s ire. He used to simply be able to swipe what he wanted, when he wanted, despite the fact that Daud had yet to deny his request, the implication that he _could_ seemed to anger him. 

On top of everything, Sergio refused to let Daud check him out and see if there was anything else he could do. Ordinarily, if he was so sour because he was in pain, Daud would feel bad for him. But his staunch refusal to let Daud help, and accusations that Daud wanted to poison him tended to drain his sympathies.

“What is your problem, Sergio?” Daud finally demanded, growing tired of the old man’s constant sniping.

“Just not fond of assassins. Thought I made that clear.”

“That’s rich coming from you. Your gang’s body count, hell, your _personal_ body count outstrips mine and the Whalers by leagues,” Daud snapped. “The entire empire remembers your Caltan Massacre.” There was a reason Sergio’s bounty was second only to Daud’s...and now Corvo’s. “Hell, your example is why I had my boys set up residence in the Flooded District; turf wars aren’t worth the time. Or blood.”

“It was a war, like you said. Those boys knew what they were getting into. I wasn’t going around killing innocents for pay.”

“How does it matter who you murdered? Blood is blood, you’re responsible for hundreds of dead,” Daud spat.

“Hundreds of dead criminals. Oh no,” Sergio said, raising his hands in mock concern. 

“Half the people on this island are criminals, are you saying their lives don’t matter? Besides, you know it was more than that, your men killed dozens of their partners. Children even.”

“I didn’t order my men to do that.”

“They were _your_ men.”

“Fine then. Are we going to talk about all the people who died because _you_ decided to kill the Empress?” he growled, catching Daud off guard. “The thousands who starved or died of the plague thanks to the disruption your little coup caused?”

Dozens of retorts formed in Daud’s mind and died on his tongue. He couldn’t help but glance to Corvo who’d grown perfectly still, his eyes affixed to the ground. Sergio was right. Whether he was philosophically correct about the moral gravity of their respective deeds could be debated forever. But the truth of the matter was, the consequences of Daud’s actions rang far wider than Sergio’s massacre. 

On the one hand, how could Daud have known she would be so different from any other noble? He knew, the second he sunk his blade into her chest that he’d made a mistake. But everything leading up to it? It was just another job. His highest paid one to date, no doubt, but still another job. Another noble with even more noble scum waiting in the wings to replace her. 

“Go to hell, Sergio, I’m done listening to you,” Daud grumbled. He called out to the void without even thinking about it, transversing away into the woods, far out of sight within moments.

“Hey! C’mon, come back! Don’t let the old bastard get in your head,” he heard Baz call.

“That’s right, run away because you know I’m _right,_ ” Sergio gloated. 

“Serg, why are you such a prick?” he heard Nadia’s voice, quieter, but still annoyed. 

“Wait...where’d Corvo go?” another villager asked, faintly confused. The voices slowly faded into obscurity as he made his way deeper into the forest. Daud winced. Seemed Corvo didn’t want to listen to Sergio’s shit either. Or he was reminded that he probably should have put a knife between Daud’s ribs the second he was well enough to walk.

Daud traipsed aimlessly through the woods, trying to clear his head. There was little risk getting lost on the island; walk in a straight line long enough you were bound to reach the shore in a handful of hours at most. It was easier to get lost in the labeled streets of Dunwall than it was to disappear in the meandering game trails of Salvage Isle. 

Eventually, Daud found his feet had carried him to the mouth of a familiar cave. He swore he could hear the whale bone singing to him well before the cave was even visible. Perhaps Theo had acquired stronger charms and runes for his collection. Daud stared up at it, before transversing into the mouth, not even sure why he was bothering. But some strange, small, traitorous part of him pushed him forward, deeper into the cave. 

He clenched his jaw as he saw the ragged purple cloths, barbed wire and splintered boards, all bathed in that eerie purple glow. Shrines were always the same, yet always different. Even this one somehow felt changed from the last time he visited. Had Theo altered it in some way? And why had the Outsider broken close to a decade of silence when he visited, only to say barely more than a couple words?

Why did Daud suddenly want to hear from him again?

He wanted to hear his stupid, cryptic bullshit. Some vague nonsense that Daud could distract himself with, spend hours analysing and never truly know if he was right. Though his interactions weren’t always like that. Sometimes the Outsider spoke clearly, in his way, guiding Daud’s footsteps, whether he claimed to or not. 

The way the Outsider spoke to him when he was young, it made him feel important. Indeed, the Outsider himself said as much, that Daud was special, powerful. It got into his head, fueled the flames of rage that dwelled there, until he became the killer he was. Though, as Daud’s power and reputation grew, the Outsider’s appreciation... dwindled. 

Did he disapprove of the way Daud used his gifts? The black eyed bastard surely didn’t frown on him using his powers to kill. He’d given them to Delilah after all, and heard tales of individuals who could summon swarms of rats to devour their enemies, a power with no purpose but to kill. Horribly. He suspected Corvo shared in that power, particularly given his new diminutive friend. 

Surely the Outsider knew what would happen. Daud was just a boy when he first spilled a man’s blood, well before the Outsider gave him his gift. The bastard knew what would come. 

He didn’t know precisely when their exchanges truly soured. The Outsider going from treating him like his favorite protege to his greatest disappointment. Or when Daud went from treating the Outsider with reverence and gratitude to having nothing but contempt for him. 

He hated to admit it, but the change hurt. He probably masked his own pain at being abandoned by holding the Outsider in such disdain. The Outsider was an immortal creature of the void, a force of nature. It was absurd to think he would actually care about Daud. Or anyone. Or anything. He might as well be angry at the sea for bringing storms.

Daud found himself seated against the far wall of the cave, his back pressed against the cold stone, staring at the ground between himself and the shrine as he ruminated on the past. He’d been doing that a lot the last several years. Staring at nothing, trapped alone with his thoughts. 

When his eyes finally trailed upward, Daud was startled to see the Outsider sitting there on his shrine, legs crossed at the knee, fingers curled over the edge of the altar as he leaned forward ever so slightly, black eyes studying Daud. 

They regarded each other in silence for a long while, until Daud finally sighed. “What, nothing to say to me?”

_“I believe you are the one with something to say.”_

Daud scowled. What game was he playing at this time? Though he supposed it didn’t matter. “...What do you want from me. What… _did_ you want from me?”

 _“Nothing specific. I found you fascinating,”_ The Outsider said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. He canted his head ever so slightly as Daud fixed a disapproving scowl on him for his non answer. _“I can see the future. Or at least most of it. I’ve watched dynasties rise and fall like monotonous clockwork. I know how people will act, and the consequences of those actions. But occasionally I find someone who’s different. Someone who makes a choice I did not predict, who’s decisions, no matter how great or small, can steer the future in ways I cannot foresee._

_“You were one of those people. I knew with my gift you had the potential to shape your time in fascinating ways. But over the years you grew... Predictable.”_

Daud grunted. “If I’m so predictable, then what am I going to do next?” he asked, half sarcastically.

The Outsider regarded him in silence for a good while, his black eyes piercing, but seeming to lack the disdain Daud had gotten so used to seeing. 

_“I don’t know,”_ he finally uttered, and with that he was gone, Daud staring at the now empty air feeling like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs.

* * *

Corvo stifled a yawn as he and Kell carried the afternoon’s haul of fish to the cellar, his back twinging as he set a crate down on a shelf. He missed a lot of things about his former life. He missed Emily, above all, of course. But he was surprised to find himself missing other, pettier things. His favorite tea, steeped just the way he liked it. His sturdy, yet comfortable custom fit boots. Though above all other luxuries, he missed his bed. Fresh sheets every night tucked over goose down, helping soothe away the aches and pains of the day and letting him sleep like a goddamn baby. 

He’d been plagued by dreams since he recovered. Dreams of his youth, growing up half in the streets, his mother struggling to help them get by. It took Corvo a while to figure out the source of these dreams. He’d been through some difficult times since his youth, met all sorts of people who reminded him of those years, but he never had dreams like he did now. Then finally he realized; it was his bed. Slightly lumpy, a little too firm, smelling of straw and dust, just like the one he had as a boy.

It was jarring to realize how accustomed to luxury he’d become. He always considered himself down to earth, more connected with the common man, thanks to his origins. But now that such a simple luxury had been taken away? He truly had forgotten what it was like to live without it. Forgot what the reality of sleeping on a hard, lumpy mattress every night was like. 

He’d slept on the cold ground plenty of times, on terrible cots and heaving ships. Even plenty of straw mattresses, almost identical to the one he had now. But every time there was some sort of end in sight. He’d go home, finish his task, or in some of his more dire situations, was sure it would all just end in his death or execution. Now though? There was no real goal, there was no end in sight. He felt lost.

And his back hurt.

“Mind if I ask you something personal?” Kell asked as she set down her box. Corvo shrugged. “So. You were Empress Jessamine’s bodyguard.” He nodded. “And lover?” Corvo frowned and gave a weaker nod. Their relationship was complicated, but he supposed the nuance didn’t matter anymore. “Then when Jessamine died you were Emily’s father and bodyguard.” Corvo gave her a bored look as he hauled over a large bag of salt, waiting for her to get to the point. “Did you have a life outside of the Kaldwins? Like. At all?”

Corvo furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?” he asked as he sliced open the bag.

“Like other lovers after Jessamine? Close friends? Confidants?”

Corvo scowled. “I had friends…”

“Really? What was he like? She?” Kell asked nonchalantly as she started scooping out fistfulls of salt, packing it around the fish.

Corvo opened his mouth to respond and hesitated. He was friendly with a number of his staff. But he didn’t think Kell would be particularly impressed by that answer. “It was a very time consuming job.”

“So you didn’t.”

He just scowled.

“That’s rough. Having your work be your entire life. Your family even.”

“I love-” Corvo had to stop himself part way, cutting pain at the reminder of all he’d lost stopping his voice in his throat. “I...enjoyed being there for them,” he said, beginning to help pack the fish, albeit with much less gusto.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’d murder for my girls in a heartbeat and would never leave ‘em high and dry. But I like havin’ folks I can talk to other than them, yeah?”

Corvo stared down at the crates, too many things clouding his mind to respond. Kell brushed off her hands and patted him on the shoulder. “I think that covers the last of them. Thanks for the help. Sorry to pry…”

Corvo was under the distinct impression she wasn’t actually sorry, but that she did in fact mean well. She was right, too, as she usually was. Corvo didn’t really have any friends outside of his family--his empresses back in Dunwall. He’d had such single minded devotion to them, he really had no life outside of them. She was right, he didn’t really have any other friends, and while his and Jessamine’s relationship was open, he never really attempted to pursue anyone else. There were men and women who caught his eye occasionally, but he never had the time for any of it. His duties were too important.

The pain of losing a child was bad enough. But he’d lost everything in his life. He was set adrift. It seemed Kell guessed that. Corvo supposed he knew about it too but preferred not to reflect on it.

Corvo returned to his room to change out of his vaguely fishy and salty clothes. People were in the common area, but he was too absorbed in his own head to really take note. 

By the time he changed, his mind settled a little. That was until he heard familiar voices out in the common room, causing Corvo’s hand to hesitate on his doorknob. Baz and Daud. The two seemed to be fast, if unlikely friends. Baz serving as the eternally chipper and irreverent foil to Daud’s dour demeanor.

“You okay?” Baz’s muffled voice asked. “Sergio really got to you, didn’t he?”

“Sergio?”

“Yeah, you’ve been all glum and weird since he started shit. Shouldn’t let the old choffer bother you, he’s just lashing out.”

Corvo’s lip curled involuntarily. Sergio was...well...everyone in the village seemed friendly, more or less. Many were dubious at first, but Sergio never got over the fact that Corvo _used_ to be Royal Protector. He seemed perfectly willing to heap all the woes of the Empire onto both his and Daud’s shoulders. And Daud was right, Sergio was responsible for a lot of bloodshed, more than Daud. He was a notorious cutthroat and criminal of the worst kind, with fingers in damn near every illegal activity imaginable. 

Corvo had been relatively new at court when the massacre occurred. They buried the reports detailing the true extent of the damage. That “turf war” crippled the entire city, it reflected poorly on the empire. Compared to Sergio’s gang, the Whalers were a rowdy gentleman's club. Main difference was the Whalers hunted nobility, so those in power considered them a threat, as opposed to Sergio’s gang who almost exclusively killed commoners and criminals.

Yet Sergio always seemed to think he was somehow better than them. Better than most people. There was something about him that rubbed Corvo wrong, being a violent murderer notwithstanding. Unlike many of the former criminals on the isle, age did nothing to temper the man. He was as ill mannered, mean, and hostile as could be. It was a testament to the villagers’ good will that they still took care of him.

He reminded Corvo of some of the bastards he had to deal with in Court. Sure of their own superiority and wisdom, while being selfish bastards through and through.

“No...that’s not it...I forget what he even said,” Daud’s voice sounded tired. Somehow stripped.

Corvo bit his lip, deciding it was rude to eavesdrop. And he _had_ been leaving. He stepped out of his room just in time for Baz to open his mouth again.

“Then what’s your deal? You’ve been grimmer than you were when Corvo showed up,” he said, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at Corvo, probably not even aware he’d come out of his room. 

Corvo and Daud exchanged somewhat uncomfortable glances at that, as Daud shifted in his chair. “It’s nothing.”

“Like hell it’s nothin’. Here I brought all this shit over so we could roll these damn cigars and get shitfaced and you’re actin’ like someone just walked over your grave,” Baz said, thumping a large jug of his new brew on the table, along with several glasses. Several canvas bags also sat next to his chair, stuffed to the brim with who could say, though the entire common area _did_ smell like tobacco.

Daud’s eyes lingered on Corvo for a moment, catching his attention. It seemed like he was trying to decide whether to speak in Corvo’s presence. A common problem between them. But there was something more, a curiosity glinting faintly in his eye.

Finally Daud sighed. “I left because I wanted to get out of there before I decked the old codger. But then I made the stupid decision to vist that damn shrine.”

So. That explained the strange look. “You’re the one maintainign the shrine?” Corvo asked, taking a couple hesitant steps towards the table.

“Void no. That’s Theo’s doing…” Daud said. Corvo frowned. That wouldn’t have been his first guess, but it did make sense in a sick, stupid way. “I didn’t realize you knew about it.”

“Of course I know. You can practically hear the bones singing from the bathhouse,” Corvo said, closing the distance to the table.

Baz blinked between the two with round eyed awe. “Bone charms _sing?_ ”

“Singing is putting it charitably…” Daud grumbled, grabbing Baz’s jug of spirits. He popped the cork and gave it a cautious sniff before he shrugged and poured himself a small portion. He took a sip, and looked vaguely surprised. He nodded and took another sip. 

“So...you went to the shrine? Did...did you see the Outsider again?” Baz asked, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss. 

“No, I saw Theo shagging a goat,” Daud said dryly, causing Baz to lean back in his chair, eyes bulging with alarm. “Of course it was the Outsider.”

“So? What’d he say that got you so worried?”

Daud scowled at Corvo and Baz seemingly in turn, sipping his liquor as the two waited for him to respond. Baz leaned forward in wrapped, almost childlike fascination. Corvo couldn’t help but be curious as well. He knew, intellectually, that the Outsider spoke to others, including Daud. But he had to wonder, what kinds of things did he say to him? 

“He said he didn’t know what I would do next,” Daud explained. Baz’s shoulders slumped in disappointment, while Corvo raised a curious brow.

“Yeah? What’s the big deal about that?” Baz asked.

“Baz, last week, _you_ could have predicted what I’d do next. You knew I’d be here, attempting to roll shit cigars with tobacco that has not been aged a _quarter_ as long as it should have been-”

“They’ll be great!”

“-and probably getting trashed off whatever swill you decided to bring along this time. And you can probably predict what I’ll be doing the rest of this month,” Daud said, ignoring Baz’s interruption. 

“Probably...puttering around making that foxglove distillate for Margana, weeding that weed patch you call a garden, and in a couple weeks helping Kell prepare for the Fugue- oh...I guess I see what you mean,” Baz said with a frown. “Maybe he just didn’t know… _how_ drunk you’ll be getting today. Because you’ve already almost downed what you poured and I should warn you, you should _not_ get that jug near an open flame,” Baz said with a laugh as Daud scowled at him. 

“I doubt those are the kinds of details the Outsider’s overly concerned with,” Daud grumbled. “I just don’t know if this means something will happen. Here. To the village.”

Corvo scowled, thinking the message over. The Outsider did seem rather...all knowing. And life in the village was so quiet, there were only so many things Daud _could_ get up to, unless he decided to leave. “Maybe he was speaking longer term. On the scale of years instead of weeks or months?” Corvo offered.

Daud shook his head. “Maybe. Though, honestly I was starting to think that staying put and being _uninteresting_ for the rest of my days was sounding pretty good,” he grumbled.

Corvo cracked the faintest smile at that, leaning his forearms on the back of one of the chairs. The Outsider called him _fascinating_ all the time. It was almost reassuring to realize Daud must have had a similar experience. “He doesn’t seem to be fond of talking to ‘uninteresting’ people…” Corvo conceded. 

The conversation petered off, and Baz took the opportunity to haul one of the bags up onto the table, revealing it stuffed full of cured tobacco leaves, while Corvo took the lull in conversation as an opportunity to leave.

“Hey Corvo. You know anything about rolling cigars?” Baz said suddenly, before he could get too far.

“Not a thing.”

Baz kicked a chair towards Corvo, slapping the table loudly with a grin. “Then have a seat. Three of us oughta figure it out no sweat.”

Corvo looked around the room, desperately searching for an excuse not to join. Though things between himself and Daud were growing less awkward by the day. He’d forever deny how much he enjoyed listening to that raspy voice reading him the news. Yet sitting there just the three of them seemed so weirdly intimate, but also like he was intruding. But then again, they were stuck here, he might as well. He really had nothing better to do. So, reluctantly, he slid into the chair.

Baz started separating out the leaves and supplies among them, with the authority of a seasoned veteran. An outside observer would have no idea that the man’s authority apparently stemmed from exactly one pamphlet he read on the matter, and the fact that he fully intended to fill in the blanks with the guesswork of two other individuals who also didn’t know how to roll cigars.

Liquor flowed liberally as they sorted and prepped the leaves, Baz doing most of the talking, as was his signature, until he eventually started asking them about the Outsider. He probably thought this was his prime opportunity to ask _both_ marked guys in one place about it. He got them to describe the Outsider, the void, his...obnoxiously cryptic messages. His seeming fascination with certain individuals. Though Corvo was almost a little surprised to hear the Outsider was somewhat hostile to Daud. Also that he appeared twice at the same shrine after so long. He hadn’t appeared to Corvo when he visited. In fact, Corvo hadn’t seen the entity in a number of years, his time encased in stone notwithstanding.

“I don’t get how you can be so flip tellin’ him off and talking shit about him. He’s...he’s the Outsider!” Baz sputtered, at Daud, while he just shrugged. “What if you make him mad and he decides to, I don’t know, kill you or something?”

Daud shook his head. “As I see it, he already _tried_ when he marked Corvo here...And it didn't really work out,” Daud said with a grim laugh. Corvo froze halfway through taking a drink. That particular angle never really occurred to him. But now in light of the Outsider’s seeming hostility...

“He _did_ seem surprised when I uh. Didn’t kill you,” Corvo said a little haltingly. “Not really disappointed though…?”

“Well, he does like being surprised. Which is why I ought to strive to be as boring as possible. Just to spite the bastard,” Daud said with a laugh, finishing off his glass, before pouring himself more. Baz outdid himself with this batch. None of them had any idea what to call it, and Baz was vague on its ingredients, but it was damn good regardless. Smooth and complex, with almost a bit of sweetness, but from the warmth rising in Corvo’s cheeks, he knew Baz wasn’t kidding about its strength.

As they worked, and drank, eventually Baz got to showering them with his fairly extensive repertoire of ribald jokes. He seemed to be thrilled to have a new audience, or perhaps victim, for his jokes. Though Corvo was fairly certain Daud kicked the man under the table when he started in on one that Corvo suspected was about the late Empress. He’d heard it before. But Baz changed to another joke, not particularly casually leaning down to rub his shin.

By the time they got to seriously attempting to roll the damn cigars, they were all far too drunk, and had made a horrendous mess of the table. The surface was sure to be forever stained from the leaves, especially where they soaked in spilled liquor. 

It was all strangely...fun. Sitting around, drinking, with nothing important to do, nowhere to go. Laughing at Baz’s stupid jokes, and Daud’s perhaps even whittier playful jabs at Baz. Baz seemed determined to make everyone around him laugh. It was no wonder he got into distilling, to make his jokes funnier. And why he became friends with Daud, who was probably the toughest nut to crack he’d encountered in a while.

Daud had a nice laugh. Corvo surprised himself with the thought, but it was true. It was warm, and lit up a face that was unaccustomed to smiling. Emily once said you could tell a lot about a person by the lines of their face. Whether they had a happy life, were a kind soul, smiled often or scowled habitually. Daud’s was a face that had seen little joy in life. Even a few months ago, Corvo would have thought it’s what he deserved. 

But now after months living with him, seeing not only his willingness to help Corvo, but his diligence in overseeing his recovery. Seeing the way he seemed to sincerely care about the other villagers, his protectiveness of them. Seeing him scoop up the toddler who he helped into the world, and spin her around while she shrieked with glee when he thought no one was watching.

Now it just made him sad.

Corvo’s first attempt at a cigar was...not a complete disaster. It looked to be on the verge of coming apart, but held firm regardless. Daud’s was a little bumpy and uneven, but at least recognizably a cigar. And Baz’s...the second Corvo laid eyes on it he wheezed, slumping back in his chair, practically shoving his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing. It was juvenile and ridiculous, but...

Before Baz lay a cock made out of tobacco leaves. 

“Baz. What is _that?_ ” Daud asked, choking back his own laugh.

Baz glanced up from his cigar, looking vaguely offended. “What? So it’s a bit lumpy, it’s no worse than Corvo’s!”

“Baz. It’s a cock,” Daud said, while Corvo’s shoulders shook with poorly concealed laughter. The drinks were really getting to him. And that was one of the most absurd things he’d ever seen. Especially after all of Baz’s tasteless jokes, of course the man would create _that._

“It’s just lumpy. Get your mind out of the gutter!”

“It _has a foreskin-_ ”

“Taff off- Daud, what-”

“Got some nerve, Baz, pretending you’re not into blokes when you’re planning on literally smoking a cock during the Fugue Feast-” Daud said, as Corvo finally let out a loud snorting laugh, then fell forward, cushioning his head in his arms against the table, his shoulder shaking with laughter. “Now look what you’ve done, you broke Corvo.”

“...Okay now I see it. It does look a bit like a dangle…”

“A bit?” Corvo managed to wheeze, his voice cracking.

As if on queue, Kell appeared carrying a basket of vegetables, she immediately spotted Baz’s abomination, and the giggling pile of drunks. She put her a hand on her hip with a huff, muttering “boys never grow up…” under her breath before stomping away to the pantry, grumbling about her table. 

The three rolled several more cigars before their stockpile of tobacco ran out. They were all more or less equally bad; any improvement they would have seen through practice was counteracted by their progressive dissent into intoxication.

Corvo couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so much.

* * *

Light poured in through Daud’s window by the time he woke up. It was all he could do to crawl out of bed and put on clothes. His head was pounding and his stomach twisting itself in knots. 

Last night was a mistake, he was too old for this shit. 

Daud essentially oozed down the stairs, and slid into a barstool the second he reached the bottom, the world sloshing a bit. Was he still drunk? Or was his hangover just that bad?

They’d stayed up late enough drinking and bullshitting that one of the other residents of the inn got fed up and told them to shut the hell up and go to sleep. Usually a certain amount of late night nonsense was expected and tolerated by the inn’s more permanent residents, but they’d managed to cross that line. Daud had no idea what time it was when they finally retired, but Baz’s jug was empty, so they decided to heed the man’s advice and go to bed.

It reminded Daud that he should look into trying to find his own place to live. Then again, for all its drawbacks, he actually liked living in the inn. 

He thumped his forehead down on the bar, the cool wood offering some extraordinary fleeting relief to his pounding head. He heard Theo’s scuffed footsteps approaching, then two incredibly loud thumps uncomfortably close to his head, the noise sending fresh jolts of pain through his skull. 

Theo grinned cheekily as Daud slowly looked up with a glare that would have made most men wet themselves. But Theo just looked pleased with himself. He’d provided Daud with a cup and a pitcher of water. Reluctantly, Daud took the pitcher and poured.

“Finally decide to grace the world with your presence?” Theo asked brightly, his voice stabbing daggers into Daud’s brain.

“Is there anything for breakfast left?” Daud asked, his voice a coarser gravel than usual, ignoring the comment. 

“My dear Daud, asking about breakfast? It’s past lunch.”

“Is there food or not?” Daud snapped before taking a couple gulps of water. On the one hand he felt the emptiness of his stomach was the only thing keeping him from throwing up. On the other hand he felt like its emptiness was doing nothing but making the nausea worse. 

With little additional prodding, Theo agreed to slip into the back and find Daud something to eat. He could be a little shit sometimes, but he wasn’t _all_ bad. 

While Daud waited for food he let his throbbing head thump back on the bar. 

A while later he heard the front door open and footsteps again. He scowled, he was always impressed at how softly Corvo stepped, even when he was just walking normally. His Whalers could have learned a lesson or two from the man.

Corvo clapped a hand on his shoulder with a chuckle. “Back in the world of the living, finally?”

Daud peeled himself off the bar to glare at the man who looked _chipper._ “How the hell are you fine?”

Corvo shrugged. “Had a pretty bad headache in the morning but it went away. Guess I didn’t have quite as much? Baz hasn’t poked his head out yet either.”

“You _did_ have just as much. And you just recovered from a serious injury to your liver- come to think of it I probably shouldn’t have let you drink at all...slipped my mind,” Daud muttered, letting his head drop back to the bar. 

“Well, I guess it’s just one of the Outsider’s boons,” Corvo said, causing Daud to grunt in response. “Don’t you have a bunch of analgesics in your room?” he asked.

“I _did_ but Sergio’s on his way to cleaning me out of everything but the laudanum, which seems excessive for a hangover.”

“Ah. Well, good luck with that,” Corvo said with a chuckle, giving Daud’s back another pat before he sauntered on his way, leaving Daud to his misery. 

Eventually, with food in his stomach as well as several glasses of water, Daud was starting to approach being human again. He made his way outside for some fresh air...and to deal with his herb garden. Baz was right, it was starting to become more of a bed of weeds than anything. He’d slowly amassed a number of medicinal herbs along with his poppies and tobacco. The truth of the matter was, he’d been learning to make more and more medicines, as importing them was slow, unreliable, and cost prohibitive. 

Frustratingly, their sources gave them knockoffs and frauds almost more often than not. It was unclear if they were really just bad at their jobs, or thought they could pull one over on some isolated bumpkins. Honestly, before Daud came, no one could truly tell the difference until the tinctures didn’t work, or made someone sick. Having Daud just make the damn tinctures, even if he was an amateur, was safer. Though after years tinkering with poisons, the whole process wasn’t nearly as fraught as he expected. It was actually kind of fun.

Daud’s brown thumb, however, remained something of a problem. Luckily other villagers were able to help him in that department. But any idiot, Daud included, could pull weeds. 

He’d barely begun when Kell appeared, smiling broadly at him. “So, you’re alive, that’s good news.”

Daud shook his head, smiling despite himself. “Alive enough. Sorry about the table, by the way,” Daud said. In their aftermath it was something of a mottled brown stained mess. He assumed Corvo must have cleaned it when he woke up, because they certainly didn’t do any sort of tidying up when they went to bed. But despite wiping it down, the stains remained.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. It was nice to see you boys enjoying yourselves. But you owe me one of those cigars.”

“Of course. But I should warn you, they’re probably more like oversized, terrible cigarettes…”

Kell laughed. “It’s the thought that counts.”

“You’ll get one of our first ones once the rest of the tobacco has actually aged,” Daud promised. 

Daud set back to work weeding, as Kell began pruning her own, adjacent herb garden, the two idly chatting about Fugue feast preparations. The village didn’t really seriously celebrate any holidays other than the Fugue. And they liked to go all out. Or as all out as an isolated village of fifty people could.

As they talked, a group of fishermen wandered by carrying gear, including Corvo, who was shirtless and...wet. He cut an impressive figure. Daud saw him shirtless plenty when he was convolessing, but never really took note. He was broad, strong, and toned enough to put most men half his age to shame. Droplets of saltwater glistened and accentuated his form, his dusky skin virtually glowing under warm Serkonan sun.

Kell let out a low whistle once he was out of earshot. “Damn...no wonder the Empress decided to take that to bed,” she said with a smirk, openly ogling his rear. Even his pants were soaked, highlighting his muscled thighs, and firm ass, much to Kell’s immense enjoyment.

“No kidding,” Daud responded half under his breath. Kell turned a devious smile on him, and nudged him with her elbow, causing him to _immediately_ realize his mistake. “I mean-” he started, but sighed. It was a lost cause. She’d already made up her mind about what he meant. 

He was an attractive man. Just like Kell was an attractive woman. He had to be blind not to recognize that. It didn’t mean he had any _intentions._

The rest of the day passed peacefully. With the throbbing finally gone from his head, Daud was able to reflect on and appreciate the night he had.

It was strange, in years past Daud never drank. He didn’t really have anything against it, but he hated the way it dulled his reflexes. He never trusted the people around him enough to let it take his edge off. And now he shared drinks with Baz regularly. And got drunker than he had since his youth, seated next to a man with motive to murder him, and enjoyed himself. He realized vaguely, that living on the island he called home, with these people he trusted. It was one of the few times in his life since he was a boy that he felt... safe.

Another strange, but not unwelcome thing, was how friendly he and Corvo were slowly becoming. They never really discussed their mutual past. Avoided the topic quite actively, really, at least in each other’s presence. Daud was plenty aware people were trying to weasel any details they could out of Corvo. But...Daud found himself being quite fond of the man. It seemed all of his time in Dunwall tower hadn’t quite ground his lower class origins out of him.

A couple days later, Daud once again found himself battling his garden, when Nadia appeared, dragging Daud away from his weeding and to the shore. Apparently her and some other folks decided they were bored, and it was time to spar. 

Daud only had himself to blame for the monster he created. But he appreciated it anyway. After the pirates attacked, he realized he was out of shape. He’d let himself grow soft living on the island. So he started training again. Naturally a couple villagers noticed and joined him so they could spar, keep each other sharp. It only grew from there.

In hindsight, it was strange that an island full of ex cutthroats weren’t already staging weekly fights amongst themselves for fun. Especially considering Baz lived there, and organizing illicit tournaments was his forte. 

The fact that a way to keep fit and sharp had turned into a lark that did very little to achieve either of those goals was vaguely irritating, but also not the worst. Daud could still train on his own time, and even he had to admit it was fun. 

At some point, once he’d fully recovered, someone talked Corvo into joining. Unsurprisingly, like Daud, the man won every match they put him in. Though the two carefully avoided fighting each other, much to the villagers’ annoyance.

That was until now. 

The two of them had systematically handed everyone they fought their asses for the better part of an hour. And now their defeated opponents were _insisting_ they fight each other.

Daud stood in the middle of the ring, hands on his hips, sizing Corvo up. They both knew why they avoided it. But if they avoided it too much longer, they’d have insistant villagers getting thoroughly into their business about it. Not to mention, Daud _was_ at least a little curious.

“What do you say?” Daud asked, as the villagers chanted and goaded them on. One of Corvo’s fisherman friends shaking his shoulder, urging him on. The man sighed. 

“If you’re up for it…” Corvo finally said, heaving himself to his feet, to the joyous whoops of the others. 

“You calling me out of shape?” Daud said with a smirk, even though he knew _exactly_ what Corvo meant. Talking shit seemed more...appropriate. 

“More like old,” Corvo corrected, playing along as he walked to meet him. Daud shook his head.

“You know, there’s a no magic rule. But considering we both have it...what do you say?”

“If I use my magic, you’ll just lose,” Corvo said in a matter of fact tone, folding his arms.

“Oh? Is that so? Didn’t take you to be that cocky…”

“I’m not being cocky, it’s just fact.”

“And how do you figure that?” Daud said, folding his own arms. Corvo looked over Daud’s shoulder, causing Daud to follow his gaze, seeing a villager scramble out of the way. He looked back just in time to see Corvo raise his marked hand, clenching it into a fist, Daud braced himself for what was to come, and was still unprepared when Corvo’s hand shot forward, fingers splayed, and a great blast of wind knocked Daud off his feet, sending him flying clean out of the ring.

He landed in a roll, springing back to his feet, blinking in surprise, as the group howled with delight. It took him a moment to get his bearings after being flung a good few meters. He didn’t remember _that_ power from when they fought. He looked up to see Corvo biting back a grin, arms folded.

“Think you’re clever, don’t you?” Daud barked, marching back to the ring.

“A bit,” Corvo said with a crooked smirk, his eyes practically sparkling. It would almost be cute, if Daud didn’t want to smack him.

“Right. Fine, no powers.”

To say Daud was a little anxious facing off against Corvo was an understatement. He feared fighting the man, even hand to hand, would bring back memories of that day. The fear, the grief and misery, all of it. Instead, he was shocked to find, it was just…

_Fun._

Corvo was a skilled opponent, far better than anything the island had to offer. And it was a good fight, if the whoops of the exciteable spectators were any indication, or the sweat that started running down Daud’s back. He quite literally didn’t have to break a sweat taking down most of the villagers. 

They were quite evenly matched. He’d venture to say that while Daud was quicker, if not by much, Corvo’s technique was damn near flawless. It highlighted where Daud had been getting lazy, getting rusty and complacent. Then again, he never was formally trained. Still, he picked up more than his share of tricks through the years. Ultimately Corvo’s precision won out, and led to Daud being unceremoniously knocked off his feet and tossed out of the circle. 

He hit the sand hard enough he had to take a moment to orient himself, blinking up at the blue sky, before Corvo’s silhouette darkened his view. 

“Sorry, got a bit carried away,” Corvo said as he offered Daud a hand. He took it, and Corvo hauled him up. He pulled Daud to his feet with such force, in fact, the man nearly overbalanced and bumped into him, standing chest to chest, Corvo holding on until he regained his balanced, and maybe a beat or two longer than was strictly necessary.

“My own fault, seems I’m getting sloppy,” Daud panted with a crooked smile.

“Not too sloppy it seems. Kept me on my toes…Here I was worried I’d lose my edge living here. We’ll have to go again soon,” Corvo said, catching Daud off guard. Daud was almost flattered that he wanted to fight again. 

“Looking forward to it.”

* * *

The weeks until the Fugue Feast passed peacefully enough. It seemed the village was too wrapped up in preparing for the celebration to get into any other drama. 

Daud had never been overly enthusiastic about the Fugue. On top of not partaking in the drinking, the whole notion of laws not applying didn’t really make a bit of difference to him or his band of criminals. Nonetheless, he swore every year something terrible would happen during the Feast. Fights among his men, people getting injured either physically or emotionally. Once one of his best assassins got pregnant during the Feast, much to her own shock and dismay. Daud helping her figure out how to get rid of it wasn’t how either of them wanted to spend that evening several weeks later. 

When the day finally came, the villagers set up tables on the beach, stacked high with food and drinks. Not to mention their terrible cigars, and a few other mind altering substances generously shared by the kind villagers. Two bonfires roared along the beach, with villagers sitting around them, eating and drinking, and generally enjoying themselves.

Few had musical talent other than the harpist, who wasn’t about to drag her instrument down to the shore, but they made do anyway. Some of the more carefree, or drunker villagers even cheerfully dancing. Several other villagers, seemingly led by Nadia, decided that the Fugue meant that clothing was now optional, to the complete dismay of some other villagers. 

Kell puttered around, making sure there was enough food, and seemingly trying to host the entire feast. Baz was trashed by late afternoon, and passed out on the sands by nightfall, while Corvo played some game involving dice and game pieces with his fisherman compatriots.

It was all very festive, but Daud simply couldn’t get in the spirit. Aside from never enjoying the Fugue to begin with, it just didn’t feel right. The Outsider’s ominous words still rang in his ears. And with everyone who would usually try to drag him into festivities otherwise occupied, Daud slipped away into the evening.

He made his way to the lighthouse. It was, technically his night to tend it. And the odds of finding people rutting in the bushes was higher than he cared to consider. Not that the odds of finding people rutting in the lighthouse were _low._

Fortunately, the lighthouse was free of occupants. The view from the lighthouse was nice, he could see the revelers below at their bonfires, the whole village out milling around the shore. It was nice to see them enjoying themselves, even if he didn’t want to be in the thick of it.

Daud settled on the floor, leaning up against the pedestal that supported the lamp and lenses. It provided a splendid view of the ocean. The moon wasn’t quite full, but large enough to bathe the sea in its silver glow, reflecting off the steady waves as they rolled into shore.

It was all so peaceful. Daud never would have imagined settling down in a place like this. Hell, he never would have imagined making it to sixty, but here he was. No more blood, no more running, spending peaceful, quiet, admittedly sometimes boring days with people he enjoyed and cared about. It was all so normal. And all so nice. The idea that it might end soon had been grinding away at him with a unique sense of dread. He felt like he was finally starting to know peace. Of course it had to end… 

Or maybe he was being pessimistic. Maybe the Outsider just didn’t know whether Daud would stay or not. But what could happen to possibly make him want to leave?

About an hour later, Daud heard the faint whisper of Corvo blinking nearby, and looked up in time to see the man teetering near the top of the ladder, a drink in each hand, and the loose, drunken posture to match. 

“What are you doing up here?” Corvo asked, taking a step safely away from the ladder, leaning down to hand Daud one of the cups.

“It’s my day for lighthouse duty.”

“But it’s the Fugue…” Corvo said as Daud almost reluctantly took the cup.

“You don’t say?” Daud said, waving a hand down to the shore where a number of the villagers had begun dancing around the bonfires, and a few more had been coaxed out of their clothes. “Lighthouse still needs to be tended.”

“No one’s going to be sailing during the Fugue. And with all of us out there we can keep an eye for it going dark,” Corvo pointed out, almost sloshing his drink again as he gestured with it. “And you’re missing all the festivities. Baz brought out the whisky he made special for celebrations.”

Daud cracked a smile. “Baz woke up? Also his whisky is terrible.”

“He did. And it really is…” Corvo wheezed. “Brought you some,” he said, gesturing to the cup in Daud’s hand. The man finally looked down at it.

“This thing is brim full.”

“Mmhmm…”

Daud laughed, shaking his head. “You’re drunk.”

“Yep,” Corvo conceded immediately, taking a sip of his own no doubt inappropriately large quantity of whiskey. “Obviously gotta test if my new gift is a resistance to hangovers.”

Daud snorted, shaking his head, then paused. “Wait. How the hell did you blink up here with a cup in both hands?” Daud asked, suddenly realizing the difficulty of that task. He always had to do some sort of hand movement to use his powers. 

Corvo blinked at the question, and Daud swore he could see the gears in his drunken head turning as he processed Daud’s question. Finally he shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Daud smiled. “You know, I never took you for a big partier,” he said, sipping his cup of whiskey, and grimacing. Yep, still terrible.

“You’d be right. More or less. You know, I used to hate the Fugue Feast…” Corvo said, sitting down on the floor so hard he nearly spilled his drink on himself, and barely noticed. “Could never enjoy it. I always worried that some idiot would take it as his opportunity to vent his anger at his job, at the Empress, so I was always on alert the whole time…Even though technically I was free to have a day off, instead it was the worst time of the year. Because job or not, I cared what happened to her.” He smiled distantly, staring out over the water. “Finally one year Jessamine got me to loosen up a little. And that’s where it all started. I mean, Emily wasn’t a Fugue baby, obviously. But she convinced me to put aside our titles for that day and we came out different in the end…”

Daud smirked. “Should have guessed Jessamine was the one to make the first move.”

“Of course she was, are you crazy? What kind of idiot in my position would try to seduce the Empress…”

Daud shrugged. “Can’t say I know the ins and outs of courtly etiquette.”

“Honestly? Even after all these years...Me neither.”

Daud shook his head, looking back out over the dark waters as the two fell into silence. Corvo rarely shared anything about Jessamine, or Emily for that matter. But the reminder about Corvo’s past, his relationship with the late Empress, settled rocks in Daud’s gut. He’d killed the love of the man who just drunkenly wandered out of his way to give him a huge cup of whiskey.

“Can I ask you what might be a strange question?” Corvo asked finally, breaking the silence.

Daud watched him out the corner of his eye, apprehensive. He couldn’t read Corvo’s expression, but given the conversation, uneasiness crept in. “Sure…”

There was a long pause as Corvo’s expression turned into a scowl, his eyebrows furrowing. “Is...everyone in this village having sex with each other?” he finally asked.

Daud wheezed, preparing for some grim question about their pasts, about Jessamine, about killing, and was entirely unprepared. “Not everyone. But quite a few…” he said as Corvo nodded along. “Who came onto you?” Daud asked with a crooked grin. While the rampant coupling was easy enough to observe, given Corvo’s question, and looks, someone _had_ to have tried their hand by now.

“Daphnie.”

“Isn’t she married?” 

“It was heavily implied her husband likes to watch…” Corvo said with a listless smirk, while Daud snickered. Somehow he wasn’t surprised. 

“You take them up on it?” Daud teased. Corvo snorted.

“Of course not...She’s a fine lady and all but sleeping around like that isn’t really my thing. Especially not with an audience,” he said with a half laugh. “What about you?” he asked, nudging his shoulder. 

Daud shook his head. “No, sleeping around and audiences aren’t really my thing either,” he drawled, drawing a bemused snort from Corvo. 

“I assumed that much...I mean generally. Folks making passes.” 

“They all think I’m sleeping with Baz, it seems to keep them from bothering for the most part,” Daud said honestly, shaking his head.

Corvo raised a brow. “Are you?”

“No!” Daud barked, making Corvo laugh. 

“Only for the most part, though?”

Daud sighed. “Yeah. I guess Nadia wasn’t dissuaded from trying…”

“Nadia? Seriously? Are you sure that wasn’t just her being...you know. Nadia?”

“Pretty sure. When she went and just climbed into the bath with me, it wasn’t subtle” Daud said, leaving out the ‘completely naked’ part, as with Nadia that was implied. 

“That sounds like pretty typical Nadia behavior.”

“I was in one of the individual baths,” Daud explained. Those were not built for two. He’d been a bit...surprised when he’d gone from relaxing and resting his eyes, to suddenly finding a woman essentially crawling into his lap, a paradoxically half lidded yet still shit eating grin on her face, hands braced on either side of his shoulders. 

“Okay yeah that’s...pretty forward,” Corvo conceded with a laugh. “At least she’s cute.”

“True. Didn’t really change the fact that I wasn’t interested. She wasn’t offended at least…”

“That’s so strange. I really thought she was only interested in women,” Corvo said, sounding perplexed. And maybe a little jealous.

“I did too.” 

Corvo looked over at him again with a crooked smirk, giving him a slow, tipsy once over. “Obviously she was just drawn to your feminine features.”

“Void,” Daud wheezed, planting his hand on Corvo’s face and shoving him away while the man snickered. Between the two of them, if either had “feminine features” it wasn’t Daud. And Corvo was about as masculine as they came. 

The two fell back into silence, sipping their excessive quantities of terrible whisky and gazing out over the water. Daud was struck by the...pleasantness of it all. And that Corvo of all people had sought him out to keep him company. The person in the village who least deserved his kindness.

“...Why don’t you hate me?” Daud asked softly as the silence stretched on.

Corvo shrugged, slouching against the light pedestal. “I did. For a good while. But I came to realize...you were just a tool. The knife. You can’t be mad at the blade that cuts you.”

Daud scoffed. “Sure you can, when the blade has a will of its own.”

“If it wasn’t you it would have been someone else.”

“Not many would have even been able to make an attempt.”

“They’d have found someone.”

“None of that changes the fact that _I_ voluntarily drove a sword through her chest for some coin.”

Corvo nodded solemnly, and signed. “I suppose. You know. People kill for a lot of reasons. Cruelty, pride, honor, women, petty arguments. Vanity. Survival...or simply because they don’t care about life. As Royal Protector I saw all the worst of Dunwall. I’m sure you know the kind of things I’m talking about, the kind of people...There were people in Dunwall with many times your body count who did it for no reason. For petty reasons. To look strong, or because they just liked it. Compared to them, killing for coin is downright civilized.”

Daud frowned, thinking Corvo’s words over. “Some people being horrible doesn’t really mitigate the cruelty of others.”

“True. But Dunwall wasn’t an easy place to live if you weren’t well off. The streets were harsh. And they bred cruelty.”

“Maybe some people are victims of circumstance. But I still chose the path I walked. There’s always another way.”

“Sometimes when your world is full of dead ends, it’s difficult to see another option,” Corvo said, almost sounding listless, staring out over the water.

“So you excuse my actions because you think I’m some victim of circumstance?” Daud almost snapped, while Corvo shook his head, or more rolled it against the pedestal.

“No. I don’t know your story...not all of it at least. Not most of it. But it was inevitable that the streets of Dunwall would create you. Someone like you,” Corvo paused, his gaze sliding over to Daud, simultaneously tired and drunk yet kept Daud entrapped. “What wasn’t inevitable was that you would recognize what you did. And change.”

Daud opened his mouth to respond, but the words died in his throat. Corvo’s gaze drifted back to the sea, with almost a faint smile. 

“Besides. It’s a lot nicer not hating you.”

They fell into silence again, Corvo staring out over the water absently. Daud did the same, but he couldn’t see a thing, his mind far too clouded with everything Corvo said to focus on much of anything. The lighthouse could have gone out and Daud wouldn't have noticed.

“I’m tired…” Corvo muttered after a while, rubbing his eyes and yawning into his hand.

“If you drank as much whiskey as you gave me, you should be damn near dead.”

Corvo smirked. “I didn’t drink _that_ much…” he said as his eyes slid shut, then slowly fluttered back open again with a grunt. 

“You should go to bed.”

Corvo grunted noncommittally, still staring out over the sea. “I missed Serkonos for a long time…Especially during the winter...” he muttered, almost inaudibly. “I guess if I’m gonna be stranded somewhere, it could be worse.”

“It is nice here…”

“Did you miss Dunwall? When you left? Leaving everything behind?”

Daud shook his head, frowning. “I missed the people. Some of them. I thought I’d miss the city. But I didn’t,” Daud said truthfully. “Certainly didn’t miss the work. Or the intrigue.”

Corvo cracked a smile, glancing over at him again, his eyelids heavy, and his head rolling listlessly against the pedestal. “Did you ever imagine you’d end up retiring in some little village?”

“Not once. Honestly, I didn’t expect to make it past thirty. Everything’s felt like borrowed time since then.”

“Thirty years is a lot of borrowed time.”

“It is.”

They drifted into silence again. Though a few minutes later, Daud was startled to feel Corvo’s warm weight lean against him. He glanced over to find the man’s eyes closed, his breathing shallow and steady, asleep. The faintest smile crept onto Daud’s lips as Corvo began to quietly snore. He shifted a little, helping Corvo slide into a slightly more comfortable position against him, and let the man sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Posting this sooner than i planned! Obvs doing it in solidarity to folks stuck in quarantine, gotta do my part to keep up morale ;] don't expect me to keep up this pace with future updates!  
> -And another chapter in which Kell becomes _even more_ convinced daud's gay.  
> -Thank you all for your support you guys rock aaahhhhhhhhhhh


	4. Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW: Suicide.** Don't worry, it's not either of the main characters--this is not that kind of fic. I'll post a spoiler synopsis of what goes down in the end notes if you want the heads up on the specifics.

As it turned out, the Outsider had not gifted Corvo with a supernatural hangover resistance, meaning the day after the Fugue, Daud numbered among the few fully functional adults in the entire village. That meant Daud got a certain toddler foisted on him early in the day while her parents recovered from their hangovers, and her teenage aunt, who distinctly was not supposed to be drinking the night before, tried to pretend she was just tired from staying up too late, and absolutely not getting Daud’s help because she was secretly hungover.

Daud didn’t mind. He’d never admit it, but he actually enjoyed looking after little Anaya. Even if caring for a child with his mother’s name was at least a little surreal. Sybil insisted on letting Daud name her after he helped them. He refused, until she and her partner badgered him into it, swearing it would just be a middle name. Then they ended up liking the name so much they used it as her first anyway. 

Though she was much harder to look after now that she could walk on her own. And run.

“You’re growing up too damn fast, you know that?” Daud grumbled after chasing Anaya down and heaving her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes after she made a break for it. She squealed and laughed as he hauled her away. She was such an eternally happy child, weren’t they supposed to be screechy and angry by this age? Or did that come later?

Daud didn’t have much experience with children. Adolescents, perhaps, but not little ones. As it turned out, they were much less complicated.

When they got back to the inn, he found Corvo sitting at one of the tables, looking about as miserable as Daud felt the last time he drank too much. 

“Here. Watch this, and I’ll get you some food,” Daud said, heaving Anaya off his shoulder, thrusting her at Corvo. He blinked at the child with blear eyed surprise as she giggled the entire way. “You keep Corvo company while I get us some breakfast, okay?”

“BEKFAS,” Anaya yelled nearly at the top of her lungs, making Corvo cringe, but he smiled through the pain, as Anaya grabbed the edge of the table, bouncing on her toes. 

Daud wasn’t a particularly good cook, particularly compared to Kell or Theo, but he could make do. With enough butter and salt and you could get away with just about anything. And eggs were always easy enough.

A while later Daud emerged with an unnecessarily large dish of scrambled eggs--he assumed more drunks would trickle in sooner or later, might as well have something for them--and several slices of toast. Anaya was babbling gleefully at Corvo, who leaned his head on his hand, looking like he was listening carefully to what was solid nonsense with occasional actual words speckled in.

“Hope I’m not interrupting, looks like you’re having a riveting conversation,” Daud said, placing the eggs on the table, and beginning to distribute plates for Corvo, himself, and Anaya. 

“Emily wasn’t nearly this chatty at her age,” Corvo said, almost sounding wistful.

“Must have taken after her father,” Daud said, eliciting a small, sad smile from Corvo. “I have a feeling Anaya’s going to grow up to be one hell of a spitfire.”

“How could she not? Look at her role models,” Corvo said with a crooked smile, as he started dishing himself some eggs and toast. “Thank you, by the way.”

Daud shook his head, also spooning a portion onto Anaya’s plate. “Don’t mention it.” He helped Anaya into a chair, sliding the plate in front of her, then grabbed a spoon. He looked between the spoon and the toddler, her hands outstretched reaching for it. “I’ll regret giving this to you, won’t I?”

“Give!”

“Okay…” Daud said, hesitantly giving the child the spoon. He wasn’t completely up to date on her dining capabilities. She grabbed the spoon in her tiny fist, almost adeptly managed to scoop eggs into it, then launched them far clear of the table as Daud watched with a sigh, and Corvo snickered.

“I’m feeding you outside next time.”

“Not much experience with kids?” Corvo asked, shoveling eggs onto his toast with a faint smile.

“Nah. Flooded District wasn’t exactly toddler safe.”

“Fair.”

The two slid into amicable silence, or relative quiet, as Daud struggled to contain the disaster that was feeding a toddler. 

As predicted, others slowly started trickling into the inn, and soon the pile of eggs and toast was claimed and devoured. 

The village slowly came back to life as the day progressed, then, much to everyone’s shock, a ship pulled into port. It seemed, perhaps, Corvo was wrong in his assertion that no one would be sailing during the Fugue. 

It was a smuggling vessel, and was gone seemingly in record time. As Corvo and Daud made their way back to the inn, they were both surprised when Theo greeted them, with something of a sly smile.

“There you are. Just the heretics I was looking for,” he said, pushing his shaggy hair out of his face, perhaps unintentionally revealing his own heretics brand under his mess of scars. Corvo and Daud exchanged glances.

“You were looking for us?” Daud asked.

“Yes. Something very peculiar just happened. Those smugglers dropped off a couple crates and said we could keep them. They said they were some stolen Pandyssian artifacts. However, they also said the artifacts were, and I quote, ‘fucking cursed’.”

“What does that have to do with us?”

“I think we three are uniquely qualified to determine whether or not these artifacts are a threat to the village that should be burned, or if the sailors were just being superstitious. Don’t you agree?”

Daud and Corvo exchanged glances again. They couldn’t really argue with that logic. 

Theo led the way east of the village with a spring in his step. Smugglers usually made use of some natural caves along a section of shore portioned off from the one near the village by some jutting rocks. However, in their haste, the smugglers had just left the crates laying on the sand. 

Daud could hear the cacophony of carved whale bone from a good distance off. He grimaced as they grew closer, and noticed Corvo doing the same. There was something even worse about these one’s songs than usual, though, to Daud’s surprise, Theo seemed unaffected. Here he assumed the man had such a weird affinity to the things because they called to him. 

The former Overseer cracked open the crates with a sparkle in his eye, while Daud and Corvo watched. Once he got the top off, he started removing fistfulls of straw, tossing it onto the beach until he found the first artifact. He held it up. It was, in fact, carved whale bone, but not like any bone charm Daud had ever seen. It was styled in the shape of a person, or perhaps some sort of demon, considering its grotesque face. It had designs down its center reminiscent of runes you’d find on charms. Though from the sickly energy the thing seemed to emanate, it was _definitely_ cursed.

“I’ve read about these,” Theo said in quiet awe, turning the figure over in his hand.

“It’s cursed,” Corvo said evenly.

“Oh? You’re familiar with these marks?”

“No…it’s just...” Corvo started, trailing off.

“Trust us, that thing has some horrible energy to it. You should probably put it down.”

Theo shrugged, and tossed the figure to the sand, beginning to dig through the straw again. After he pulled out a few more similar figures, Daud moved to crack open the next crate, curious if it was more of the same. Though as the lid came off, he immediately noticed it lacked the same strong sickly energy as the first. It didn’t feel entirely inert, but it didn’t seem like every object in it was cursed.

“You know, you two are most illuminating. I always told them we shouldn’t be so quick to torture and burn heretics like yourselves. You have such useful insights,” Theo said cheerfully, while Daud scowled at him. 

“Generous of you,” he muttered, digging through the straw, his fingers soon falling on something vaguely dish shaped. When he pulled the item out of the straw, he found himself looking at the back of a mask. When he flipped it over, he was so alarmed he nearly dropped it back into the crate. 

The thing seemed to be carved from wood, though decorated with paint and wire. It’s style was almost a little more human, a bit simpler, a bit bolder, but the design was unmistakable. It was Corvo’s mask. Through in the shapes, there almost seemed to be something of Corvo’s own face meshed within, though Daud couldn’t put his finger on how exactly. And while it didn’t sing, it made his skin tingle.

Daud glanced up to see Corvo scowling at another mask he’d fished out of the crate. It was a strangely familiar, angular face, with bark for skin, and flowers seemingly sprouting from the face. As abstract as it was, it was still unquestionably Delilah. 

“Corvo…” Daud said, drawing the man’s attention, before showing him the mask. Corvo’s glare turned to a look of bewilderment, his eyebrows knitting together. Corvo bent over the crate, starting to dig more urgently. He found another mask, which did nothing to soften his glare as he held it up for Daud to see. This one had a terrible snarl frozen on its lips. Instead of holes, the eyes were filled with some sort of glossy black stone, almost reminiscent of the Outsider’s own eyes. A vertical line ran down one side of its face, starting at the forehead, over one black eye, and down its cheek, painted blood spilling from the perfectly straight wound.

Daud scowled at it. “Cursed or not, I’m in favor of dumping this crate back into the ocean.”

“Burning is probably a better solution, stuff tends to wash back up on shore,” Theo pointed out. 

“Some of these are probably worth something if they’re harmless. Creepy. But harmless,” Corvo pointed out as Daud reluctantly returned to digging. The next mask was, blessedly, not a face he recognized. It seemed to be a woman, trapped in a scream of fury. Gold wires made up her hair, but numerous strands coiled around, and were embedded into her face, making a chaotic web across her features, creeping into the eye holes and mouth. It also made his hand itch.

“I wonder if these are all people marked by the Outsider. But these are from Pandyssia? How would they know?” Daud said as he continued to dig, vague dread and curiosity battling in his gut.

“The Outsider must have given the artist visions. That’s how my mask came to be,” Corvo said, pulling out another mask, this one with a face frozen in a blank stare, ruby blood pouring from its eyes.

“Fascinating,” Theo said, suddenly joining them, making both Corvo and Daud flinch at his particular delivery of that word. But the man didn’t seem to notice. “I wonder if these represent how the Outsider sees you. You’re...I don’t know, feral and blind, and you some sort of impassive grim reaper,” he said, gesturing to Daud and Corvo’s masks in turn.

“Thanks.” Daud grumbled.

“I wonder what the significance to the scar still bleeding is. How did you get it, anyway?” Theo asked. And here Daud thought Baz was nosey. 

“It’s a long story. And one I’m not interested in telling,” he snapped as Theo opened his mouth to ask. He snapped it shut again, pursing his lips. 

“Ah, so it is still bleeding,” Theo said smugly, returning to digging through the extremely cursed feeling trinkets. Daud gave him a withering look which Theo didn’t even look up to notice.

Daud and Corvo continued looking through the crate. It had dozens of masks. Many were people, many weren’t human at all, instead exquisitely crafted works of wood and paint depicting ferocious animals and monsters. Daud admired one that seemed to be some sort of demon, painted in bold black and white and red that was almost reminiscent of blood spatter. It bore a wide, snaggle toothed grin spanning from ear to ear, and twin sets of horns.

They’d barely scratched the surface of their crates when a villager came running around the rocky outcropping. One of the fishermen. He doubled over panting, resting his hands on his knees as he struggled to speak.

“Daud! They’re back- they’re…” the man panted. “Pirates.”

“The pirates? The idiots I scared off before?” Daud asked, incredulous. That was _months_ ago. He’d been sure they learned their lesson. 

The man nodded. “Spotted their ship. Sure it’s them.”

Theo’s eyebrows shot up. “My. Seems these things really are cursed…” he kicked at the pile of evil trinkets, scowling.

“Yeah, should probably get on burning them sooner rather than later,” Daud grumbled, he hefted the demon mask in his hands a few times, a twisted smirk making its way onto his face. “Say Corvo, want to ruin some pirates’ day?”

Corvo smiled. “It would be an honor,” he said, grabbing a mask of his own, settling it in position over his face. It was exquisitely detailed as far as the beast masks went; fur carefully rendered with thousands of cuts in the wood, coming to a pointed snout, with sharp teeth and long whiskers. A rat. Fitting.

They made their way quickly back to the village, approaching the inn just in time to see the pirates trudging up to it. They exchanged glances, Daud silently signalling to the roof. Corvo nodded, and a few moments later they both blinked into place, crouched, looming over the approaching pirates. There were more of them this time, and most of them had pistols. Seemed they’d come prepared. Or attempted to come prepared.

“I thought I told you not to come back,” Daud called down to them, making the leader jump. He recognized that smug, weasely face and shaved head, it was indeed the same ones from before. The men flanking him staggered back a few steps when they caught sight of Daud and Corvo, pulling their weapons, though the leader signaled them to wait. 

Corvo stood at the opposite corner of the roof, arms folded, staring impassively down at them. Daud had to admit, he cut something of a terrifying figure. He wore some of his shabbier fishing clothes today, black ragged pants and a simple dark tunic that matched upsettingly well with the eerie rat mask. His eerily still, confident stance almost unsettled Daud. 

“I’m not afraid of you! Two can play at witchcraft you know!” the leader barked back, holding up a bone charm hanging from a cord around his neck. Daud could sense it was a fairly powerful artifact, even if he had no idea what the man hoped to accomplish with it.

“You’re right. Two can play at witchcraft. Like my friend here. Care to give them a demonstration?”

The eerie rat mask slowly turned to him, then back to the pirates with a shrug. Even the ones with pistols seemed to be frozen with fear. Slowly Corvo lifted a hand, then clenched his fist. For a moment, Daud had no idea what he did, he was still standing there, and time didn’t stop...but then he heard it. A shrill cacophony of squeaks and squeals, followed by a blood curdling scream. 

A swarm of rats descended on one of the pirates, biting and crawling over him, and swarming to the next man. The pirates were bloodied and panicked by the creatures, but weren’t being stripped to the bone like some of the swarms Daud had seen in Dunwall. Whether the swarm was deadly or not, the pirates were effectively thrown into complete chaos, many shooting their guns wildly into the swarm. 

Half the pirates fled at just the rats, but a quick exchange of glances later, and Daud and Corvo were down on the ground to take care of the rest. Pistols went off at nothing as Corvo and Daud cut through their ranks. Corvo moved like a tornado, men falling to the ground unconscious or badly bloodied and broken in the blink of an eye. Daud felt like he needed to hurry up if he wanted any pirates to himself. 

When he made it to the leader, he could feel the bone charm draining the void from him. But it didn’t matter, the man was no master combatant, and was so damn shaken Daud punched him square in the face before he could even dodge. He grabbed the bone charm as the pirate staggered back, ripping it from around his neck. 

“So much good this did you,” Daud growled, even as he felt the charm draining his energy. He tossed it away, the effect dissipating as soon as it was out of arm’s reach. But he didn’t need his powers to deal with this man, and almost reveled in using his fists. The pirate blocked and dodged a couple strikes, only to take a solid fist to his jaw, so hard he would have fallen had Daud not grabbed him by the neck.

Around them his men fell one by one, Corvo deftly sending them crumpled to the ground unconscious or suffered debilitating, albeit nonlethal wounds. Daud wrestled the leader into a headlock, forcing him to watch his men fall. It was a joy watching Corvo make short work of them. There was a reason his skills were legendary, and augmented by his magic... it almost made Daud envious. He never achieved such grace and fluidity in his attacks.

“The smart ones ran,” Daud pointed out as Corvo dusted off his hands, looking around for a new target, his swarm of rats slowly dissipating. “How can such smart men follow someone so stupid? Why did you come?”

“I-we- we heard about a shipment of artifacts. W-we weren’t here to hurt the village I swear.”

Daud huffed behind his mask. So it really was the damn cursed trinkets. “I told you not to come back, but here you are...You put me in a difficult position. I don’t know what options I have _but_ to kill you.”

“I could feed him to my rats,” Corvo offered, his tone ice cold as he approached the two. It was an admirable performance that put most of Daud’s Whalers to shame. It was almost convincing enough to make Daud wonder if he’d do it. But this was Corvo, surely he wouldn’t actually...

“That many rats _do_ require a lot to eat…” Daud said pensively.

“N-no! Please! I-I’ll give you anything, please!”

“Well then, smart guy. What are you offering?”

* * *

Kell stared down the numerous boxes of fine porcelain dishware stacked up in the common room, hands on her hips. 

“What _exactly_ are we supposed to do with all of this?”

“Class up the tavern?” Theo suggested helpfully with a cheeky grin, causing Kell to just glare.

“You’re an ex pirate, thought it would be self explanatory. We sell it. Got smugglers coming by all the time…at least one of them should know where to offload it,” Daud said, slightly more helpfully, while Kell sighed heavily.

“Might help secure some financial security for a while. Trade prices have been getting worse and worse, and our smugglers aren’t really paying us any better for storage,” a villager pointed out, pulling open a crate that seemed to be full of high end serving bowls.

“What if they come back again? They’re going to be pissed off now that we took their booty,” Kell protested weakly. 

“They’re not coming back,” Corvo said with a note of finality, though Daud had to agree. They’d been scared so shitless they delivered their hard earned booty into the inn themselves, apologizing the whole way. Though Corvo and Daud generously let them keep ten of the twelve enormous crates of jellied eels. 

Daud nodded in agreement, pulling out a fine tea cup, delicately painted in an absurdly fine floral pattern. How could something so expensive also be so tacky? “I don’t think what we took is worth it for them to want to get back either. Not when they think they’ll all be eaten by rats if they try.”

“Fine! Fine, just...void. Where are we going to store this all?”

Ultimately, they settled on one of the “guest” rooms. Even if they were rapidly running out of rooms for actual visitors. 

It was evening before they finally got back to the cursed trinkets abandoned on the beach. Theo, Corvo and Daud decided their best course of action was to sort out the cursed items from the inert artifacts, and sell the intern ones. If they were already going to try to move the dishware, might as well. The craftsmanship was exquisite on the masks and trinkets. As long as they didn’t feel wrong, what was the harm in getting some cash for them? 

Theo mostly tended their small bonfire as Daud and Corvo sorted. It was easy for them to tell the magical from the non magical items, considering how they’d make their marks itch and skin crawl, and sometimes how they could even hear their shrieking, tortured cries. Luckily, they went silent once the flames consumed them. At least the Overseers were right about fire’s ability to combat magic.

The first crate of trinkets yielded few things to sell, only a couple dozen figurines didn’t seem to be cursed, or magical. Daud hated handling the cursed things, each one rendering a new unpleasant twisting in his gut. As they sorted, he couldn’t help but feel his initial impulse to just torch both boxes was right, but Theo wouldn’t hear of it, and the village could probably use the coin.

Corvo wasn't the only one dressed in rags among them. Keeping food and essentials stocked was taking up most of their funds. They’d had to cut corners on other things. Buying bolts of cloth was cheaper than whole garments that might not even fit. Unfortunately their two self appointed seamstresses weren’t the best stitchers in the world. Likewise Daud had been getting his practice in refining and brewing medicines from their components even more than he had before to save coin. It seemed like the fishermen spent as much time repairing nets that were practically crumbling as they did actually fishing.

According to Kell the village had been through tight times before. Though who knows when things would turn around with Delilah’s new empire reforming itself around them.

When they got to the masks, Corvo was eager to chuck Delilah’s into the fire, though when they got to their own faces they hesitated. It was hard to imagine what the significance of the masks was. What magic they held, what the consequences would be for destroying them. But, Daud preferred the idea of taking the risk to destroy his rather than the notion of letting it sit around doing...whatever it was doing. 

His guess was the faint magic emanating off of them came from their creation, and nothing more. Nonetheless, he held his breath as he tossed the mask into the fire. And nothing happened. He breathed a sigh of relief, and a few moments later, Corvo disposed of his own mask the same way. 

They kept digging and sorting into the evening. Both the demon mask Daud used, and Corvo’s rat mask didn’t feel magical. Daud was tempted to keep them as souvenirs. Though as Daud casually tossed the face of a screaming child into the fire, he heard Corvo gasp. He looked up to see Corvo staring down at a mask, a look of horror and despair on his face. Daud quickly rounded the crate to see what he was looking at, and his breath caught in his throat.

The mask was unmistakably the face of Emily. Eerily, the mask looked like she was trying to scream, yet had no mouth, and her face was crisscrossed by fine gold lines that somehow reminded Daud of prison bars. Corvo raised a shaking hand to his face, fixated on it, his breathing growing almost panicked.

Daud stepped away from the man and to Theo, who was boredly poking at the bonfire with a stick. 

“Theo, could you go grab us a bite to eat or something? This is taking forever,” Daud barked, a bit more harshly than he meant to.

“Why me?” Theo whined.

“Because you’re not the one who can feel whether or not these damn things are cursed.”

“Fine, fine…” Theo muttered, stomping away into the dark. When Daud turned back to Corvo he saw the man drop to his knees, shaking visibly even in the dark from this distance. Daud hurried back to his side, glad he’d been able to get rid of Theo so easily. 

Daud knelt next to Corvo, tentatively reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. His breaths were raspy and choked, and his eyes were wild, with tears streaming down his cheeks. He’d seen enough anxiety attacks to recognize one. And staring at the terrifying, distressed face of his dead daughter seemed like one hell of a way to trigger one. Daud couldn't imagine the man’s pain...

“Breathe, you’re okay,” Daud murmured, trying to be reassuring, but feeling like he was probably the _last_ person who should have the right to reassure the man. Though it was probably still better than Theo.

“I- I can’t burn her, I can’t-” Corvo gasped, shaking his head almost violently.

“You don’t have to, here, I can take it-” Daud offered gently, reaching for the mask.

“No!” Corvo barked, cradling the thing to his chest, curled over it, protecting it, rocking in the sand. “No, you can’t, we can’t-”

“Okay, that’s fine we’ll...we’ll keep this one. We don’t have to destroy it, I promise, it’s fine…” Daud said, his hand sliding from Corvo’s shoulder to his back, rubbing it reassuringly.

Eventually he felt the tension start to ease out of Corvo’s posture. His breathing steadied, and eventually he nodded, even if he kept his white knuckle grip on the mask. Corvo took a few steadying breaths, and pulled the mask away from his chest, staring down into its hollow eyes. He gently ran his fingers down its temple, fingers tracing along her regal cheekbones, catching on the strange gold lines. Finally he let out a shuddering sigh, and he seemed to sag all at once.

“I...need to burn it,” he said finally after a long stretch of silence. 

“No, you don’t, we don’t even know what these do. We don’t have to tell anyone-”

“No. I. Have to.” 

Daud’s brows furrowed, studying the man’s face, which was etched in pain, but also resolved.

“Are you sure?” Daud asked softly.

Corvo simply nodded. 

Daud nodded back, heaving himself up. He offered Corvo a hand, and helped haul him to his feet, his legs clearly still a bit wobbly. His eyes barely left the mask the whole time, staring down into those hollow eyes as he approached the fire. Daud kept a steadying hand on his shoulder, half afraid he’d topple into the flames.

Corvo glanced up at the fire, and back at the mask several times, taking ragged, steadying breaths.

“It’s just wood. It’s just a thing,” Daud said, giving Corvo’s shoulder a squeeze. The man nodded, finally pressing his lips into a firm scowl, before lightly tossing the mask into the fire.

It landed on top of the other burning trinkets, flames licking around it, through its eyes, slowly consuming it like any other piece of tinder. Corvo heaved a deep sigh, running a hand down his face.

“That. That thing is not how I want to remember her…” Corvo said weakly, barely audibly. Daud nodded grimly, frowning. Corvo cleared his throat, shaking his head before speaking again. “Thank you. For getting rid of Theo.”

“Of course. Though he should be getting back any minute…” Daud warned, squinting through the dark for him. “You okay?”

“No,” he said, his voice rough. Daud nodded. 

“Need anything?”

“I need to take a walk…” Corvo murmured.

“Go, I’ll cover for you when Theo gets back. I’ll finish up without you,” Daud said, giving Corvo’s shoulder another squeeze, before the man stepped away from the fire.

“Thanks,” he sighed, giving the burning mask one last look, before disappearing into the dark.

* * *

Life in the village swiftly returned to its normal quiet rhythm as the weeks drifted by, and summer started nearing its conclusion. One evening Daud found himself seated around a table with Kell, Baz, Corvo, and another villager playing cards, as the inn slowly filled with people.

“So, you’re really sticking with the beard, are you?” Kell said with a vaguely disapproving tone, eyeing Corvo over her hand of cards 

Corvo rubbed his chin which now sported a thick, gray streaked but neatly trimmed beard. He’d been growing it out for a while now, though it hadn’t taken long to fill out quite respectably. 

“I’m on the fence about it, honestly,” Corvo said. “Had one for a while before, but it was easier to maintain...there.”

“I like it, I think it suits you,” Daud offered as he tossed his extremely losing hand of cards on the table.

“Thanks,” Corvo said, still rubbing his chin in contemplation.

“Yeah! Nice and manly. When I grow mine out I look like I have mange…” Baz offered with a laugh.

“Void, you really do,” the last player at the table, one of the inn residents added, shaking her head and smiling. Daud could only nod along. Baz looked like he had some sort of horrible disease when he didn’t shave. It was so damn patchy Daud had to wonder if getting punched in the face hard enough could somehow damage hair follicles.

“I think you two just like it because you can’t grow your own damn beards. Have beard envy or something,” Kell grumbled. Baz let out a belly laugh, agreeing, while Daud shrugged. He _could_ grow a beard. Granted, it wasn’t as nice as Corvo’s. And it made him look like even more of a low rent cutthroat than he already did.

“I think it’s nice too,” the resident added, ruining Kell’s theory with her contribution, while she smiled at Corvo with a wink that Corvo resolutely pretended not to notice. It seemed the unwanted villager propositions didn’t stop with the married fisherwoman. Daud couldn’t quite believe he was actually _grateful_ people thought he was sleeping with Baz… Or perhaps the man had just spread the rumor that he wasn’t interested on his behalf. Either way, it worked out.

The round came to an end, and the resident bid them farewell, before Kell cleaned her out even further, and went to socialize elsewhere. The inn was buzzing with activity, beyond their little card table. It happened, sometimes. No particular events, but folks all congregated in the inn to just socialize, especially with a late summer storm brewing outside. 

And a storm seemed to be brewing inside as well, in the form of Baz getting just drunk enough to be on the far side of stupid. 

“Can I ask you a uh. A philly-soficle question,” Baz asked as Daud grimaced at that pronunciation.

“A _what?_ ” Daud rasped, grateful for an excuse to be distracted from his new terrible hand. Tonight was not his night.

“So we got a few folk here who are former mercenaries, right?” Baz trudged on.

“One or two,” Kell conceded, scooping up the pot as Corvo groaned and tossed his cards on the table in defeat.

“So mercs are like soldiers, right? Hired out to help fight ‘n stuff. Like freelance soldiers.”

“Get to the point, Baz…And ante up,” Kell prompted.

“So if’n that’s the case, got freelance folk hired to kill other folk. What’s the difference between an assassin and a mercenary? Don’t that make assassin’s kinda like soldiers?”

Both Corvo and Daud shot Baz nearly identical incredulous looks, while Kell froze like a startled deer. “ _Baz,_ ” she hissed.

“I’m serious! I don’t get it, what’s the difference?”

“Quite a lot…” Daud muttered. 

“Is there though? Got some bloke giving you coin to go kill people for him. Soldiers do it, mercs do it. Wouldn’t a royal assassin just be a soldier?”

“The key difference is who’s doing the hiring, and why,” Corvo said in a blase tone, much to the shock of everyone at the table. He glanced around at their stares with a half shrug. 

Baz sat back in his chair with the faintest frown, brows furrowed. “Huh. Guess that’s a bit more straightforward than I was imaginin’.” 

Daud studied Corvo with concealed surprise, but the man had a complete poker face. Though whether it was thanks to the conversation or the game was anyone’s guess. Daud didn’t know the full story about Corvo and the “Loyalists,” and hadn’t asked. But he suspected Corvo got his hands dirtier than he’d readily admit. Most of the “masked felon’s” presumed victims went missing. But a few others were found dead. If he had experience being an assassin himself, it might have had something to do with why he seemed so open to looking past Daud’s wrongs. 

They’d spent a good deal of time together since the Feast. After facing down the pirates, they’d begun sparring in their own time, without an audience, or a ring, with their powers. The encounter reminded them both they were a little rusty putting their magic into practice in a fight. It was exhilarating. The villagers gave them flack when they occasionally came away with cuts and scrapes, but it was worth it. Even if Daud usually lost, he at least made Corvo work for it. It was never an easy victory.

They learned a lot from each other in those bouts. Daud admired how disciplined and precise Corvo was, while Daud liked to think he taught Corvo a thing or two about fighting dirty. It only took a few fistfuls of sand to the face before the man devised a counter.

Corvo also somehow managed to lose his reading glasses only a handful of weeks after he finally got a pair, and Daud had been helping him read the papers again. Daud privately wondered if the man lost them on purpose, to get back into their routine, and didn’t want to simply admit he enjoyed it. 

Or maybe Daud was just projecting, as he enjoyed spending time with him, and hoped it was mutual. Corvo was quiet, but didn’t mince words. And he also had a surprisingly sardonic sense of humor that Daud couldn’t help but appreciate. 

Though Daud did worry about him. He seemed lost. It made sense after all, his entire world had recently crumbled around him. His insistence that he’d leave soon had faded with time as Daud’s had, but unlike Daud, he still didn’t seem content in the village. He hadn’t just settled in and become one of them, he didn’t quite seem comfortable, instead he seemed to have just given up. The Outsider asked Daud if he was lost, and really, it seemed like a question better suited for Corvo. Daud stayed because he wanted to. On the other hand, even if he could leave, Corvo just didn’t seem sure where to go.

As the evening progressed the inn only got livelier, louder, and drunker, turning steadily from just a night of socializing to an impromptu party. 

Suddenly, the front door slammed open, and Nadia came running inside, dripping from the storm, a beaming grin on her face.

“Everyone, everyone! I’ve discovered something important!” she announced, only gaining the attention of those in her direct vicinity, including Daud, who she leveled a particularly devilish grin on as she reached into her jacket and pulled out a penny romance novel.

Daud recognized the cover immediately, and groaned, covering his face and slumping in his chair. 

He was pretty sure the Whalers drove half the sales on that damned thing. After a while he just started chucking every copy he found around their base into the nearest fire. Usually he’d never interfere with their belongings; but he had his limits.

The book was a collection of allegedly romantic, and allegedly erotic short stories. Granted, Daud was not a great expert on either subject, but he was pretty damn sure none of the void forsaken stories out of that thing fit the bill. _Particularly_ the one staring _himself._

Nadia took a chair and slammed it down in the center of their table, before climbing up and settling on her new elevated perch, while everyone else stared on in bewilderment. She cleared her throat dramatically, successfully drawing the attention of at least a few additional patrons, before she slowly and dramatically thumbed to the appropriate page. 

“Danger’s Blade Conquered by Silk’s Soft Embrace, by Francois Lover. It was a warm night, as Henrietta readied herself for bed, slipping into her lightest silk nightgown. She frowned at her reflection in the mirror. The silk of her gown poured like liquid over her curves. Her friends said they envied her, but Henrietta knew they talked behind her back; her voluptuous body made it so difficult to find fashionable clothes. 

“She believed it was a normal night, like any other night, as she combed out her perfect, bouncing, honey brown curls. Little did she know, the deadly Knife of Dunwall, the assassin Daud, lurked nearby, like a coiled viper ready to strike. Her jealous enemies had taken a contract out on her life, and he was there to collect.”

Baz started to wheeze, slapping Daud on the shoulder as he realized where this was going, as Daud just groaned again. 

“Nadia, we get the point. There’s no need to-” Daud started, but she kept going, even louder.

“But he found himself, struck by Henrietta’s beauty. Her gown drawing his eyes to her ample chest, like two pale, sweet melons. He longed to taste them--” Nadia read dramatically, her voice going shrill and cracking as she finally lost her fight with her laughter. His other compatriots at the table also began cackling, as Daud just shook his head.

“He slid from the shadows, and wrapped a hand around her slim, delicate throat, he had a contract to fulfill. Henrietta gasped, emerald green eyes going wide with fear, but Daud hesitated. How could he kill something so perfect? So beautiful? She was art made flesh-” 

It was difficult to tell what part the table found most entertaining about Nadia’s reading, the agonizingly purple prose, or Daud’s starring role. The story was absurd. The overwhelming power of her perfect breasts apparently causing Daud to want to turn his entire life around, and the pair coupling before deciding to run off together and start new lives somewhere else, despite having literally never met before then. 

At first Daud was horrified by the story. He felt violated, even, that someone would write about _him_ in those situations. Though it was clearly him in name and occupation only. The character was just another garbage stock character in a garbage bit of erotica. It was nothing like him, unless he’d suddenly become ruggedly handsome and significantly stronger while he wasn’t looking. Daud prided himself in being fit, relied on it for survival, even. But even at his peak, holding a tall, voluptuous woman aloft for elaborate sexual maneuvers for an extended period of time seemed beyond his capabilities. 

With exposure to the story, he started noticing the other problems with it, besides its male protagonist and awful writing. Even if he had somehow been miraculously bewitched by her beauty, what sane woman would bed, then run off to start a life with the man hired to murder her? Didn’t she at least need to know who wanted her dead? In fact, who _did_ want her dead? The story was spectacularly vague on that front. Was she so sexy her friends literally had to have her assassinated? Was she secretly a cutthroat business woman who crossed the wrong person? She was clearly wealthy by her silk nightgown and sheets, was it some inheritance matter? There were so many unanswered questions.

The Whalers told him he was taking it far too seriously when he voiced these concerns.

Nadia’s audience, blessedly, started shouting her down amidst hoots of laughter as she started to delve into the more gratuitous parts, eventually she caved. She stood and gave a dramatic bow for her performance, as several people clapped, including both Baz and Corvo, the traitors. Though she spun on Corvo with a wide grin.

“Don’t get too cocky, _Lord Attano_ , you’re next,” she said ominously, the smile abruptly dropping from Corvo’s face.

“Wait what-”

Nadia hopped down from the table, dragging her chair with, and skipped away without explanation, cackling almost maniacally as she went to the bar. 

“You have some erotica about you?” Kell asked Corvo, who shook his head.

“Not that I knew of…”

“How the hell did she even find that damn thing? It was published _ages_ ago…” Daud grumbled.

“I don’t know, but I gotta hand it to the author. Nailed you to a T. Like he had a window to your soul,” Baz snickered, earning him a smack upside the head from Daud, which only made him laugh harder. 

“I swear if I ever find that author I’m going to beat him senseless with his own damn book.”

Corvo smirked at him. “I’m surprised you knew about it. A big romance novel fan?”

Daud gave him a flat glare, as Corvo’s smile widened. “My idiot gang brought it to my attention. And by brought it to my attention I mean giggled about it incessantly for months.” Daud paused, a smile creeping onto his lips despite himself. “Their idiot shenanigans culminated one night when I returned to my chambers, and saw a figure sitting on my bed. Pulled my sword, expecting a fight- we had pretty damn high security back then. Anyone getting into _my_ chambers without raising hell was definitely a threat. Then got up close and it wasn’t a person at all. It was this shoddy cobbled together mannequin in a stolen silk nighty with two enormous and completely lopsided melons for breasts. No one ever fessed up about who did it. I suspected they were all equally culpable…” 

Baz cackled, slapping the table. “Your boys big pranksters?”

Daud shrugged. “Not especially, but you had to do something to stay entertained out there…The melons were pretty good though.”

With the distraction and the chair removed from their table, the group went back to playing cards, trying to win back some of the pot from Kell; a task which they all failed at.

Eventually, the inn started to grow quieter, and more and more people retired to bed. Finally Baz and Kell decided to call it quits, and Corvo and Daud decided to do the same, not that they had far to go to turn in for the night. Corvo kept his room downstairs, despite Kell’s offer to let him move upstairs where it was quieter. 

“I still can’t believe there’s something like _that_ about _me,_ ” Corvo said, referring to the terrible erotica as he opened the door to his room. Daud snorted.

“Are you kidding? There’s probably more than one.”

“But… _why?”_

“Because you’re relatively famous. And have you looked in a mirror?” Daud said, the words tumbling out of his tipsy mouth before he fully realized what he was saying. Corvo blinked, looking startled. 

“I uh…” he said, and Daud swore he could see the faintest blush developing. Maybe all those years swearing off drinking were for the best, if it kept him from stuffing his foot in his mouth quite as often.

Before the situation could grow any more awkward, the front door burst open again, but instead of Nadia it was another villager who was dripping wet from the storm. He was one of Sergio’s friends, and thus someone Daud didn’t know terribly well. Nonetheless, he came straight up to him, brows knit with worry.

“Daud, you have to come. Something happened to Sergio. He needs help.” 

Corvo solemnly bid them well as Daud hurriedly gathered his things and headed out with the villager. Daud was soaked by the time he stomped his way inside the man’s home. The cabin was little more than an open box with a hearth at one side and his bed at the other. Someone had been kind enough to build a warm fire, and Sergio was curled up on his side, arms wrapped around himself, groaning, his face contorted in pain.

“Sergio...what happened?” Daud asked.

“Piss off Daud, why’d you bring him here?” Sergio barked, glaring daggers at his friend.

“Serg, don’t be stupid. He’s here to help. He’s been under the weather for a while-”

“I was _fine._ ”

“You _weren’t._ And now this- I think he has a fever.”

“Sergio, is that true? What’s been happening?” Daud demanded, marching up to his bedside. He pressed his hand to Sergio’s forehead, it was covered in sweat, and burning hot. 

Reluctantly, Sergio ground out his reply. Describing how the pain in his abdomen had been slowly growing for weeks. That he thought it would pass. Daud tried to feel his abdomen for the source of the pain, but it was too overwhelming, and Daud’s hands were too inexperienced; it prevented any precision. His void sight was...somewhat illuminating, but still imprecise. None of it looked...right.

Daud was good at triage. Cuts, broken bones, sprains, and bullet wounds, not… _this._ Still, he had some ideas, some guesses from his observations. If he was lucky, maybe it was gallstones. It was the correct area, and they were painful. Maybe what he could see was simply inflammation as a result. Either way, there were things he could do for that. Or medicines he could make, at least. They weren’t exactly things he kept on hand. 

He administered some laudanum--it seemed Daud had been prescribing a lot of it lately--and left a second dose with his friend for later, along with his bone charm and a dose of elixir. They had to ration it, but this seemed like an emergency. He then returned to his room and got to work. 

It was well into the small hours of the morning before Daud finished, his window wide open to ventilate the fumes he generated, with at least one decanter shattered on the floor in his haste. Operating so late into the night with the fading remnants of Baz’s moonshine still in his veins was distinctly not helping. But finally he had it, a concoction that, according to the Academy textbooks, could help alleviate blockages in the gallbladder. If Daud was right about what was happening, it was his only real hope at this stage. All other possibilities he could come up with didn’t end in Sergio surviving.

Even as he loaded the hopefully life saving drug into a syringe, Daud couldn’t chase away the sinking feeling in his gut. If the organ had already ruptured, there was little Daud could do. And if he was wrong, well, the drugs would do nothing whatsoever. 

Sergio was resting uneasily when he returned, but at least in far less pain than before. When Daud went to administer the drug, to his chagrin he did not manage to find Sergio’s vein the first time. Or the second. Though this elicited only mild complaints from the man, as Daud cursed his light headed exhaustion. The world was swimming, only this time there was no joy to be found in it. 

Finally the needle found its way into the man’s vein, and Daud slowly administered the medicine into his bloodstream. He’d need small doses every four or so hours, and no one else really knew how to use a syringe. Though, given Daud’s own performance, he was growing skeptical that _he_ knew how. Nonetheless, he gave Sergio’s friend instructions to wake him in four hours so he could administer the next dose. Hopefully with a little sleep, it would go smoother. 

True to his word, the friend woke Daud four hours later. The second dose went a little easier, though perhaps unsurprisingly, Sergio didn’t look any better. When Daud returned to his room, he couldn’t go back to sleep, instead starting to rifle through his collection of medical texts looking for something. Anything. 

It went on like that for a couple days. Daud eventually showed some of Sergio’s friends how to administer the drug, so he could actually get some sleep, but anyone could see it wasn’t working. He tried a few other treatments for possible causes from the textbooks--at least ones he had the supplies for. But these yielded just as few results.

On the fourth day, Daud found himself alone in Sergio’s cabin, which was a little strange. Usually one of the man’s friends was around to keep an eye on him, and keep him company. But Daud was too tired to think much of it. He pulled out the syringe, and Sergio grabbed his wrist with a surprisingly strong hand.

“No more damn needles,” he hissed. Daud sighed, lowering the syringe. 

“The medicine can take a few days-” he started halfheartedly.

“It’s too damn late for me and you know it,” Sergio muttered. Daud opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his tongue. Sergio’s pain wasn’t reducing at all, if anything it was getting worse. His fever continued to rage despite the drugs Daud threw at it, including their expensive and scarce infection remedies. And on top of it all, his skin was slowly but steadily developing a yellow hue. From all of his texts, with his symptoms, without difficult procedures none but the most skilled and well equipped surgeons could even hope to perform, there was nothing he could do.

“Sergio...why didn’t you tell me this was happening. If I’d known sooner…” Daud said, exhaustion weighing on his words. 

“You what? Could have given me a few more months? I’m _old_ Daud. This...my friends think it’s been going on for weeks. It’s been going on for _years._ Started before you even came. Just thought it was some indigestion at first. But it just kept getting worse. The only surprise is that I’ve lived this long,” Sergio said firmly. Daud furrowed his brow. If Sergio was telling the truth...it opened up more options for its cause. And even fewer treatments. It also explained his constant requests for analgesics.

There was a long silence as Daud struggled to find something to say, but Sergio beat him to it.

“I want you to kill me.”

Daud opened his mouth and snapped it shut again, glaring at the man. “I’m not going to murder you, Sergio.”

“Damnit, you useless bastard. You’re an assassin, you should know how to make it painless.”

“I told you, I’m not going to kill you-”

“What? Do you think you’re performing some sort of mercy, letting me live like this?” Sergio hissed, his teeth clenched against a wave of pain. His eyes were wild, but surprisingly clear. “I never once let a man dictate how I lived my life, I’m not going to let you dictate my death. I’m not going to die withering away here in agony pissing the bed because I’m too weak to move,” he pleaded, tears appearing in his eyes, though he determinedly blinked them away. “Let me keep my dignity. If you can’t do that, then sod off, so I don’t have to see your fucking face.”

Daud sighed, pulling his hand out of Sergio’s now weak grip. The man rolled onto his back, looking defeated, still stubbornly blinking away tears as Daud rummaged through his bag. He pulled out a pair of vials, carefully measuring doses of tinctures into them. He placed the first one on Sergio’s bed stand. “This is a tincture that will help ease your pain and let you get some sleep,” he explained. Sergio’s eyes drifted to him, his lips pressed into a firm scowl. Daud corked the second vial, and set it next to the first. 

“This one’s the same. Don’t take it sooner than twelve hours after the first. If you take them too close together, you may never wake up.”

Sergio’s firm glare slowly turned to a look of understanding. He set his jaw and nodded faintly, just in time for one of his friends to arrive back in the cabin. Daud packed up his things and left.

Sergio slept soundly that night. And never woke up.

* * *

The villagers held Sergio’s funeral shortly before dusk the next day, building a funeral pyre west of the village. Every member of the village was in attendance, including Corvo, who lingered reluctantly near the back. He in no way wanted to be there, in no way wanted to honor the monster, but also couldn’t very well snub half the village. If he didn’t attend, people would talk incessantly. It was like being back at court in that respect.

Regardless, he did respect the feelings of a few of the fishermen, who actually held the monster in somewhat high regard. As well as the soft hearted Kell, who seemed sad to have lost someone no matter what. Strangest of all, Daud seemed out of sorts all day. Sure, he’d worked to save the man, but as far as he knew, Daud actively disliked Sergio.

As the sun fell below the ocean, the mourners made their way to the inn for Sergio’s wake. Baz brought out his strongest, deadliest liquor, as the villagers began exuberantly sharing stories of their times with Sergio. He’d nearly forgotten how...rowdy Serkonian wakes could get. Funerals in Dunwall were such sober affairs, usually before the actual burial. It was flipped in Serkonos, probably the hot sun and bloodflies necessitating burning the body as soon as possible, leaving the other rituals for afterwords. Even if that ritual seemed to mostly consist of mourners just getting drunk and just figuratively roasting the dead into oblivion to go with the literal burning, drowning out their tears with laughter.

But Corvo wasn’t in the mood to laugh. That man deserved none of it. He would have simply disappeared into his room if he thought he could get past unnoticed. He suddenly regretted not taking Kell up on her offer to move upstairs. 

Corvo looked around the space, trying to figure out what table he could linger at where the people wouldn’t be offended by his total lack of enthusiasm. That’s when he noticed Daud was missing. In fact, he hadn’t seen Daud since they returned from the pyre. Perhaps he’d simply slipped to his room unnoticed. He was good at that, after all.

Eventually Corvo decided to simply leave the building. It was too crowded, hot, and stuffy. The fresh, cool sea air was an immediate relief as he stepped outside. 

Corvo started down a path away from the inn, but couldn’t help but check back, his eyes scanning up to Daud’s window. It was dark. Corvo frowned, some strange worry settling in his gut, unbidden. The man had been tired after trying to save Sergio. Corvo was actually a little surprised watching Daud run himself ragged trying to help a man he hated. It seemed when he wasn’t trying to brew medicines in his room he had his nose tucked in a medical textbook, looking for answers. Void only knew when he slept. It was...admirable. Maybe after all of that he was trying to sleep? But there was simply no way anyone could sleep through the racket downstairs, no matter how tired.

The niggling worry grew as he thought about it. Some part of him was still dismayed that _Daud_ of all people was apparently his friend now, stranded together in this strange village as they were. He felt sure Jessamine wouldn’t approve. Emily wouldn’t approve either. But Kell was right. He couldn’t let the dead rule his life. If he did, he’d have no life left. His options were to move on, or die. And even if the despair crept in some days, the latter simply wasn’t an option.

He considered where Daud could be, there weren’t _that_ many options. He knew another villager had lighthouse duty tonight, so he wouldn’t be there again. Corvo had tried to swap with them last minute to escape the wake. Sadly, that villager seemed only slightly more fond of Sergio than Corvo, and wasn’t about to give up their excuse to miss the festivities. After how disturbed Daud was after his last visit to the shrine and the Outsider’s cryptic message, he couldn’t imagine Daud would go there either. 

Corvo strolled down the shore, to the rocky outcroppings, puzzled to find nothing, then made his way to where they held the funeral, towards the soft orange glow of where the pyre still burned. 

A figure sat on driftwood log a ways back from the flames. Corvo saw Daud and Nadia seated there during the funeral. It seemed Daud hadn’t moved. Corvo frowned, it had to have been over an hour since everyone relocated. 

Daud sat leaned over, his elbows resting on his legs, staring down at the sand, looking vaguely miserable. He didn’t move as Corvo approached, though he knew the man heard him, probably even knew who it was. Corvo walked around the fallen log and sat next to him, looking him over. Daud lifted his head ever so slightly, examining Corvo out the corner of his eye, a faint smirk finding its way onto his lips, if not his eyes.

“What, no giant cup of whisky this time?” he asked.

Corvo shook his head. “Nah, thought I’d leave the booze for the actual mourners. Didn’t think you’d be one of them…Thought you didn’t even like him.”

Daud snorted. “I didn’t. The man was a bastard to the end.”

Corvo grunted in agreement, his eyes trailing to the pyre, then back to Daud, the orange light flickering across his wary features. “Odd place to spend your evening if you disliked him so much.”

Daud just hummed in response, and they fell into silence, Corvo at a loss for words. Daud was clearly in some sort of pain, but he couldn’t begin to fathom why. So he just sat with him. Corvo was never any good at words anyway. But sometimes it was important to just...be there.

The silence stretched on for so long as Corvo watched the fire flickering away, spitting sparks into the night sky, that he nearly jumped when Daud finally spoke.

“I killed him, you know.”

Corvo scowled, turning back to study Daud’s face, perplexed. “Nonsense. You did everything you could. The whole village saw how hard you tried-”

Daud shook his head. “He asked me to kill him. He wanted it to end. So I left him with the drugs to do it.”

Corvo watched Daud, his brow furrowed, as what Daud said sank in. He opened his mouth to speak, but words failed him. “Oh…” 

The silence stretched on for another long while, before Corvo finally spoke. “Does anyone know?”

Daud shook his head. “Just you. And anyone Sergio might’ve told. But I don’t think his friends would have let him do it.”

Corvo nodded slowly, frowning. He felt...oddly touched that Daud would confide in him. But also puzzled by the great weight that seemed to be pressing the man into the ground. “Do you think you don’t deserve to be at the wake or something?” 

“Couldn’t give a shit about the wake,” Daud said with an insincere laugh.

“Then why…?” Corvo started after a long pause, trailing off, unsure how to even ask the question without sounding heartless. 

“I thought I was done killing. I know, it’s absurd,” Daud said with a resigned sigh, staring down at his hands.

“You did that man a greater kindness than he deserved,” Corvo said grimly, sudden anger beginning to smoulder in his chest at Sergio. Maybe it was irrational, just the product of his general dislike for the man. But he could imagine the train of thought. Sergio liked to rag on Daud so much for being an assassin, as if he wasn’t himself a mass murderer; there was no way he didn’t use that in trying to goad Daud into killing him.

“Maybe. It’s ridiculous to feel...I didn’t even think twice about it. I thought I was past…You can never really escape it, can you?”

Corvo frowned, nodding in agreement, finally starting to understand. Daud wasn’t grieving Sergio. He was grieving another kind of loss. Grieving the death of a fleeting hope that his life could change, when he didn’t realize it already had. 

Corvo acted without thinking, reaching out, gathering Daud into his arms, and pulling him into a hug. Daud went stiff at the touch, startled, his breathing seeming to stop entirely, but Corvo persisted. After a few long moments, the tension slowly started to ease out of him, as he allowed himself to lean into Corvo’s embrace. Corvo rested his head against Daud’s hair, and the quietest, strangest little traitorous thought occurred to him.

It felt nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -TW spoiler: It turns out Sergio is terminally ill and actively dying. He decides to kill himself instead of dying slowly and painfully and asks Daud to kill him. Daud leaves him with the drugs to do it himself.  
> -ON THAT CHEERFUL NOTE. This was planned before....uh...everything in the outside world. Kind of a bummer but hey! Here we are!  
> -Shout out to SurreptitiousBookworm helping me write the Fanfic Within a Fanfic for maximum stupid.  
> -Also Poor Daud, can't stop Accidentally Being Kinda Gay about Corvo.  
> -Once again thank you all for your lovely comments. This project keeps getting longer and longer because I suffer from a crippling inability to ever guess what my word counts will be...so...more to come. So much more...


	5. Disruption

“Is that all you got?” Corvo taunted as Daud panted, drained after blinking one too many times in a row.

“You’re getting quicker,” Daud groused, ducking a swing, and trying to sweep Corvo’s legs out from under him, only for the man to deftly hop away. Initially, Daud had Corvo on his heels, and aggressively pushed his advantage, thinking he might have actually win one of these damn matches. But that hope was quickly fading. 

“Nah, I’m just picking up on your patterns,” Corvo said, also out of breath at least. He ducked close, going for a grab, which Daud quickly twisted out of.

“You calling me predictable?”

“What can I say? Everyone has a pattern. It’s not a bad thing if it works. And yours is pretty damn good-” Corvo said, dodging another of Daud’s attacks, before feinting to the right and, to Daud’s surprise, vanishing. He didn’t catch the subtle flex of his hand until it was too late--and suddenly Corvo was behind him, his arms locked around Daud’s neck. “But not good enough.”

Daud grunted as Corvo squeezed, and tapped out on his arm. The man loosened his grip, but distinctly did not let go. “C’mon now, you know there’s a way to escape this,” Corvo said, his shit eating grin apparent in his voice.

“I thought the point of this hold was that there isn’t really,” Daud grumbled, not really bothering to struggle. He shivered as a cool wind blasted along the beach, chilling the sweat on his skin, almost grateful to have Corvo’s warmth holding him from behind. He had the sudden urge to just relax against the man, melt into his arms as he had after Sergio’s funeral. His face started to flare red at the thought. It felt so damn good to be held...even if this wasn’t a hug, it was a headlock. Daud didn’t care to reflect on what that said about his life.

His thoughts wandered back to that evening far more often than he was willing to admit. It’s not like he hadn’t been hugged lately. Kell was a big hugger, and even Baz hugged him before, very much against Daud’s will, and bodily lifted him off the ground in the process. But it was not the sort of experience he dwelled on late at night with a quiet sense of longing curling in his gut.

“You’re smarter than that, Daud.”

“Fine, I’ll rephrase, I don’t really know a way out that doesn’t involve _actually_ hurting you,” Daud said, grabbing Corvo’s arm with both hands, prompting the man to tighten his grip again, pulling them flush.

“Don’t worry, I can take it,” Corvo said, his warm breath trailing across Daud’s ear, making his face grow even hotter.

“Gross…” A voice, specifically that of Kell’s youngest said from near the tree line, making them both jump. “Sorry to interrupt, but a ship just pulled into port. And Corvo, please don’t strangle Daud? I mean I guess we all want to sometimes...” 

“A ship came into port? We just got our shipment yesterday,” Corvo said, letting go of Daud so abruptly he nearly stumbled. Daud cleared his throat, rubbing his neck as he turned to the girl. At least being choked was a good excuse for why his face was so red. Though if he wasn’t mistaken, Corvo seemed a bit flustered as well.

“Yeah, doesn’t look like any of our regular smugglers or the pirates. Not sure who it is. Just warning you guys to make yourselves scarce,” she said before disappearing back into the trees. 

Daud huffed a slightly annoyed sigh, while Corvo ran a hand through his hair, giving Daud a crooked smile. “Next time I can show you how to get out of that hold,” he said, starting to head towards the regular spot, Daud promptly following along.

“I’m pretty sure donkey kicking your kneecaps is one way out...or stomping your ankles.”

“I suppose that’s true. But there are more elegant solutions,” Corvo said.

“Well then, I eagerly await your tutelage,” Daud said only a _little_ sarcastically, but not without a smirk. Corvo snickered.

Most everyone was already in the clearing when they arrived, and they promptly settled in for their usual drinking and dice. Daud only shivered a little, the sweat he worked up combining with the brisk autumn wind to detrimental effect. But soon enough he dried off and was comfortable enough. Autumn in Serkonos didn’t get half as cold as Dunwall.

It was strange, sitting out in the forest without Sergio. His chair still stood nearby, empty. They’d moved it out of the circle. No one seemed eager to sit in it, or get rid of it. While many in the village were saddened by his passing, he was an old man, and a bit of a bastard, so the grieving wasn’t too deep. Nonetheless, even Daud felt like he’d somehow be pissing off the man’s ghost if he used his chair. 

As they sat, a strange, niggling little sensation arose in the back of Daud’s mind. Like a figment of a tune lost to time, or an obligation he couldn’t remember but knew he forgot. It was enough to distract him from their dice, even as the hours dragged on.

Eventually everyone started to worry that the strangers would be staying the night. It happened from time to time. Usually it was ships in need of repair, or ones with seasick passengers who wanted some time on shore. It reminded Daud he needed to see about moving out of the inn. Sergio’s cabin was of course open, but Daud sure as hell wouldn’t move in there, another resident was free to take that over. But there was also the fact that he liked living at the inn...

It was strange to consider, strange to remember, really, but Daud actually _liked_ people. He liked stepping out of his door and having others around. In retrospect, he hadn’t had a whole lot of privacy with the Whalers either. Granted with his status, they gave him all the privacy their bases could allow, but he was rarely worried about truly shutting himself away. He could have operated as a solo assassin just as successfully, and probably far more profitably without dozens of mouths to feed.

Corvo, on the other hand, seemed to be almost smothered by the constant presence of the villagers. Some stormy days when they didn’t fish, Daud swore the man barely stepped foot outside his room. Daud had to wonder how he survived court. Though sometimes he would disappear into the forest. Duad could only imagine he did the same thing in Dunwall, disappearing onto the rooftops, alone and anonymous in the buzzing city.

Daud’s head shot up as he felt… _something._ A tingle in the back of his brain, more persistent than before. He ground his teeth, glancing around. What _was_ that?

“You okay?” Corvo asked, eyebrow raised as he examined him from across the playing mat. 

“Yeah. I just...hm…” Daud trailed off. He couldn’t even articulate it.

A few minutes later, Kell’s youngest appeared again, with a deep frown on her lips. 

“That don’t look good. They’re stayin’ the night, aren’t they?” Baz asked before she had a chance to speak. 

“Yeah.”

“Shit,” Corvo muttered, running a hand through his hair. He hadn’t had to deal with getting kicked out of the inn for the night yet. Last time they’d had visitors stay he was still convalescing, so they just left him with a chamber pot and locked the door to his room. Though that also meant Daud had to awkwardly escape out the window after seeing to his bandages. Daud ended up staying in Baz’s cabin, as he usually did when they had unwelcome visitors.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. You and Daud can come stay at my place! Got an extra cot and everything. Though...guess I only got the one cot. Bed’s large enough for two though. But I gotta warn you, I’m the big spoon,” Baz said with a laugh, slapping his knee and laughing harder when Corvo gave him a tired look, and Daud tried not to look suspicious.

“You need to be careful, Daud. Theo overheard them. It sounds like they’re looking for someone. One of them seemed sure the man they were looking for was here. Said something about trying to find ‘the old knife,’ and about rumors of magic. Seems they must have heard about the pirate incident,” she said.

“Well shit…” Baz muttered, his mirth abruptly fading. Daud sat back, his frown deepening. Slowly, the strange feeling scraping away at the back of Daud’s mind started to clarify, slide into something cleaner, something he could almost remember. He flexed his marked hand.

“These people. Was one of them a man about my height, must be...hell, pushing forty by now? Black hair, brown eyes, has a scar right along here…?” Daud asked, trailing a finger from his left cheek down his jaw. The girl blinked at him.

“Yeah. He a bounty hunter or something?” 

“Not exactly. At least not last I checked. Hmm…” Daud murmured, slowly getting to his feet. “I wonder...If you will excuse me…” Daud started off towards the forest, out of line of sight of the game area, but not staying too far. Naturally he heard Baz calling out and traipsing after him. He also heard Corvo blink somewhere nearby, seemingly up a tree, watching, but out of sight. 

“What are you plannin’ on-” Baz started, but Daud held up a hand, signaling Baz to wait. There was no use telling him or Corvo to go away, but they’d probably be polite enough to stand back. 

He called to the void, reaching out towards that feeling, that distantly familiar yet forgotten essence. He curled his fingers around it and pulled, unsure if it would even work. But he was immediately greeted by a strangely satisfying weight in his grip, in his call. The next moment a startled and off-balance man stood before him, sloshing beer out of a mug as he flailed about in surprise. 

Daud stepped back out of range of the beer, a crooked smile on his lips as he heard Baz cursing in surprise. “I heard you were looking for me, Rulfio.”

Rulfio blinked as he regained his bearings, staring at Daud, giving him a slow once over, before the widest grin split his face. “Boss!” he practically screeched, tossing the mug aside and, much to Daud’s surprise, lunging forward.

He was ready to defend himself at the sudden movement, but at the last second realized what was happening and resisted attacking the man. Rulfio grabbed him in a crushing bear hug, so exuberant he nearly knocked the wind out of him. Daud stood in stiff surprise until Rulfio pulled back, holding him by his shoulders instead.

“I _knew_ you were here! I was telling them I could _feel_ it! Shit, here you are!”

“This one of your boys?” Baz asked, finally cautiously stepping forward.

“Formerly, yes. But it still raises the question. What are you doing here? How did you find me?” Daud asked, the paranoid suspicious edge making its way to his voice despite his efforts. Rulfio was...a good, exuberant man. It seemed at least his disposition hadn’t changed much. But Daud simply couldn’t immediately trust a trained killer he hadn’t seen in over fifteen years. 

“Oh, jeeze, there’s so much. I…” the man stammered over himself, before holding up a hand, seemingly to stop himself more than anything else. He took a breath. “We’ve been looking for you. We heard from some pirates about some guy with a raspy voice fucking them up with magic. I knew it _had_ to be you. I’ve, we’ve been looking for you.”

“Why?”

“It’s...we need your help,” Rulfio admitted, almost reluctantly. Daud looked him over with a skeptical scowl. “Have...you been back to Dunwall since Delilah took power?”

“No,” Daud growled, not liking where this was going. 

“Well, it’s _so much worse_ than you can imagine. She’s...she’s unhinged. And no one can touch her. It’s impossible without magic. So we were thinking...” Rulfio said, trailing off, looking rightfully sheepish.

There was a whispering change of pressure next to him, as Corvo blinked down from his hiding spot. Rulfio let out a strangled cry at his appearance, doing a rapid fire double take and reaching for a weapon on his hip which distinctly was not there. Kell probably forced him to disarm before she’d serve him. 

“You want him to help kill another empress,” Corvo finished for Rulfio grimly, as the man’s panicked eyes darted between Corvo and Daud.

“That’s Attano-”

“Don’t worry about it, he’s...fine,” Daud said, unable to even begin to explain his and Corvo’s relationship in this strange world, let alone give a quick summary.

“Oh, okay, of course! Guess you must have told him about Emily,” Rulfio said, sagging with relief, and smiling, while Daud covered his face, and Corvo’s gaze drifted from Rulfio to Daud with a piercing glare.

“Told me _what_ about Emily?”

“What- you mean, you didn’t tell him?” Rulfio sputtered, incredulous.

“No. I hadn’t. It didn’t seem relevant,” Daud said, suddenly desperately wishing Rulfio was capable of shutting his goddamn mouth as he felt Corvo’s eyes drilling into him.

“ _What_ didn’t seem relevant?”

“ _How_ is that not relevant!” Rulfio exclaimed. 

“Explain yourself,” Corvo growled through gritted teeth, bristling. 

Daud took a steadying breath. He glanced to Corvo, who seemed set to go off. There were plenty of reasons he hadn’t felt the need to broach the topic of the man’s daughter previously. “I...foiled some plans Delilah had. Her first attempt to become Empress, I guess.”

“Isn’t that the time you trapped her in a painting or whatnot?” Baz offered oh-so helpfully, making it Daud’s turn to level a piercing glare at someone. He couldn’t tell Baz anything…

“You _what?_ ”

“Back in Dunwall after-” Daud stopped, another reason he hadn’t brought it up. Discussing how the Outsider gave him a vision as he plunged his blade into the Empress’s chest was less than ideal. “Delilah- you know what? It’s... It’s a long story. I swear I’ll explain later. But I think we should find out what Rulfio’s doing here…”

“Lord Attano here pretty much got it. We uh, want your help taking down Delilah,” Rulfio said, rocking back on his heels. “We can do fuck all against her when she has so much magic and so many witches working for her. Overseers tried with the music boxes, but she has those clockwork soldiers too, just shredded them. Not really one to cry over spilt Overseer blood, but it was _gruesome._ Dunwall’s as much a graveyard now as it was during the rat plague thanks to her.”

Daud sighed. “So, it’s not so much me you need as the Arcane Bond.”

“Believe me, Boss, it’s not just the Bond we’re after, but it definitely would help.”

“Who is this ‘we’ you keep mentioning?” Daud asked.

“It’s uh, a couple folk you haven’t met, and a couple from the old days,” Rulfio said vaguely, avoiding eye contact, Daud couldn’t quite parse his expression. Daud scowled, half consciously reaching out through the void, feeling for their essences. He could tell it was Rulfio, even after all those years, once he got close enough. He always had an easy time finding the man, some people were just easier to sense than others. But surely he should be able to sense the others now that he knew to look? Eventually he sensed Thomas. But he said a couple.

“Who is here?”

Rulfio bit his lip. “Eh, Thomas and uh…”

Daud folded his arms, staring Rulfio down as he waited for the man to spit it out. He still acted so much like that fidgety teen Daud found burglarizing apartments all those years ago. 

“It’s uh. And Lurk,” he finally admitted.

Daud’s arms fell to his sides as he stared, stunned. 

“Sh-she stayed on the boat, she wasn’t sure you’d uh. Want to. See her. But she’s the one with the boat, so...”

“I need to see her,” Daud said without missing a beat. “Now.” 

“I- what?”

“You heard me,” Daud rasped. Suddenly nothing else existed, he didn’t give a shit if they were asking him to help kill Delilah. Didn’t care about Corvo’s demands to know his past, or whether he approved. Didn’t care what stupid commentary Baz would have for him. He’d wanted to see her, to apologize to her, for _years._ He never thought he’d have the opportunity- and she was hiding away on boat, thinking he wouldn’t want to see her. He reached out through the void, searching for her. Surely if he could still find Thomas and Rulfio, he could find her? Or had everything that transpired between them truly and finally broken that bond? 

Daud started off towards the shore. She was on the boat still, at least he knew where to look.

“Wait! Daud-!” Rulfio stammered, hurrying after him. He could hear Corvo and Baz muttering behind his back as he stomped through the forest. Who could remember what all Daud told Baz about Billie. Then again, it was possible this time Attano was the one with the upper hand on information, his informants no doubt knew something about them. 

Daud ignored the others as they followed him to the shore, though they stopped short at the dock. At least they had the sense to give him some space. A large, battered ship loomed large at the end of the dock. Two figures on the deck watched his approach, one descending down the gangplank to meet him.

Daud’s breath hitched when he saw her. She had changed so much, though the years did nothing to weather the fearless defiance in her face. Daud always admired that about her, even as a girl.

It was good to see the ferocity in her...eye. The other put out, along with half of one of her arms. Daud felt a pang of sympathy and...guilt? Seeing her like that. Inexplicably feeling it was somehow his fault, like he could have protected her.

“Daud,” she said stiffly, uneasily, standing at a safe distance, watching him with her critical eye. 

“Billie,” he said, managing to keep his voice impassive despite the tide of emotions threatening to choke him. There were so many, no particular one managed to rise to the forefront. He was glad she made another life for herself. But still so regretted forcing her out of his. For messing up her life in the first place, teaching her to become a killer. 

His throat clenched, not knowing what to say. He looked her over again, and gestured to her missing arm, and eye. “Must be one hell of a story,” he said, working to keep his tone light.

Billie’s apprehensive look softened. “Yeah, turns out it’s a bit harder to dodge grenades without magic.”

“I’ll bet…”

After a few beats, Billie gestured to him with the faintest glimmer of a smirk in her eye. “You got old.”

Daud huffed half a laugh at that, a smile finding its way to his lips. “Yeah, time’s one relentless bitch,” he said, running his hand through his all too gray hair.

Silence stretched between them again. There were so many things to say, and yet somehow nothing to say. 

Finally, Daud simply took a few steps forward, and hugged her. Billie went stiff initially, gasping softly in surprise, but after a few moments her arms closed around him, and she buried her face against his shoulder as he held her tight.

“I’m sorry,” Daud finally murmured.

“Since when do you apologize? And if anyone should be sorry it’s me, I was the one who betrayed you,” Billie said, her voice only a little tight, muffled against Daud’s jacket. 

“I put you into that position. You were just following in my footsteps. I just taught you how to kill.”

“You taught me how to survive.”

“You deserved better.”

“We all did.”

_It was inevitable that the streets of Dunwall would create you. Someone like you._ The echoes Corvo’s words rang in the back of his mind. Billie betrayed him, nearly got him and all the other Whalers killed. Tried to usurp him, but Daud held her blameless in all of that. He taught her everything the streets hadn’t already. Her betrayal was inevitable.

Suddenly Corvo’s words made much more sense, even if he still didn’t fully agree with the sentiment as it applied to him.

Eventually Daud pulled back from the hug, Billie’s hand still softly holding his arm as they parted. She looked him over with a soft, bittersweet smile. She so rarely smiled in those days, it was a treasure to see. 

Daud looked over to the looming stack of rusted steel moored by the dock, he jerked his head at the vessel. “That your ship?”

“She is.”

Daud grunted in approval, giving it a thorough once over. It wasn’t pretty, but it was sturdy, and big. “Impressive. What’s her name?”

“The Dreadful Wale,” she said, with an unmistakable hint of pride in her voice. “She’s not much to look at, but she gets me where I need to go. Most of the time. Have to put a boot to the boiler occasionally.”

“I’ll bet,” Daud said. 

Apparently sensing it was safe to come down, the second figure from the ship’s deck descended the gangplank. Daud recognized Thomas immediately. He smiled faintly, that familiar guarded look the man often had, one that Daud always suspected concealed an underlying kindness unbefitting of an assassin. He didn’t let the cruelty of their lives or their work shape him. Daud had secretly admired that about him. All of his Whalers had some trait he admired...

He looked Daud over, and offered a half bow. “Good to see you again, sir.” 

“Good to see you too, Thomas...don’t call me ‘sir’. Those days are long past,” Daud said. Thomas inclined his head in something of a nod, that faint smile still on his lips.

“Of course.”

“Whoever would have thought the four of us would wind up in the same place again,” Daud said, hearing Rulfio’s steps coming up behind them, apparently taking from Thomas’s cue that it was safe to approach. 

The four started to catch up, but soon Daud realized they should return to the tavern, if for no other reason than to let the others still hiding in the woods know it was safe to come out. Billie and Thomas were both naturally alarmed to discover Corvo on the island as well, but likewise took Daud’s word that he wasn’t a reason for concern. 

Daud was happy to hear Billie was willing to shuttle Corvo wherever he wanted to go when the time came. Everyone could tell how miserable Corvo was. Even so, Daud didn’t like the idea of losing his presence around the isle. Then again, his former crew seemed to be trying to get Daud off the island as well, if just for one last mission…

But discussion of the mission waited for now. Reunions and introductions proved far too distracting. Daud tried to pry stories out of the three about what they’d been up to the last decade and a half, and they did the same to him. 

Corvo, naturally, disappeared early in the evening when it became apparent they weren’t planning on discussing Delilah quite yet. Even Baz more or less let them be, after he got the liquor flowing at least. The surprised looks on the three’s faces when Daud downed a shot of moonshine was priceless, but they got over it quickly.

It was nice seeing them again. Seeing Billie again. They’d all changed so much, but seemingly all for the better. 

They introduced them to their other traveling companion, a woman who seemed to be in a relationship with Rulfio. As the hours dragged on, villagers started shuffling into the tavern, and Baz made his return. Now that they’d had some time to catch up, it was a prime opportunity for him to get even more stories out of Rulfio, who was obviously the easiest mark out of the three. Nadia appeared eventually too. It seemed she knew Thomas as well as Billie, and was eager to join in catching up.

Despite avoiding talking business for the most part, word of their intentions spread among the villagers, much to Thomas’s dismay at first. But Daud’s lack of concern put him at ease. There was simply no way something as explosive as a plot to murder Delilah would not immediately spread through the village, no matter what precautions they took. Besides, what were any of them going to do? Warn her? As word spread, it was apparent the village was interested in helping if anything.

As the evening wore on, inquiries shifted from what the former Whalers had been up to, to life on the island. 

“It’s cute how everyone has nicknames,” Rulfio said. Daud raised a brow.

“Not many people have nicknames… I guess when strangers are around they don’t use our names, that’s probably what you heard,” Daud explained.

“Ah. Suppose that makes sense. Who's the Surgeon then?”

“That would be me.”

Rulfio grinned. “Really? Who’s the Rat then?”

Daud had to sit back in his chair and think about that one. He exchanged glances with Nadia who also looked uncertain. “Probably Corvo?” Daud offered, as Nadia nodded in agreement.

“Really? That doesn’t make much sense…”

“Why?” Daud asked, sipping his moonshine, suspicious of the look on Rulfio’s face.

“Cause not long after we got here, some teenage girl told the innkeeper that she thought the ‘Rat and Surgeon want to bang,’ and the innkeeper about split a gut laughing.”

Daud about choked on his drink, as Nadia burst out cackling.

“ _What?_ ” Daud rasped, glaring at Rulfio.

“Don’t look at me! Just relaying what the girl said,” Rulfio chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender. 

“We were _sparing,_ there was nothing-” Daud defended, as Nadia’s laughter only grew louder. He rubbed his forehead. That girl…

Nadia grabbed the edge of the table, leaning forward and waggling her eyebrows at Daud. “Guess that explains why you boys always go off and _fight_ in _private._ ”

“We spar in private because having a void-damned audience is _distracting,_ ” Daud snapped.

“Don’t worry, Daud, I think we all understand the inherent eroticism in kicking someone’s ass,” Rulfio said reassuringly, which only made Daud’s glare deepen.

“Or getting your ass kicked in Daud’s case,” Nadia added.

Rulfio nodded pensively. “Even better, honestly…”

Daud groaned, leaning his head in his hands. “Void…”

Eventually they made their way to a new topic, to Daud’s _immense_ relief. He’d have to give that girl a talking to in the morning. Though from the sounds of it, Kell didn’t exactly discourage the asinine assumption.

As the hours ticked by, eventually Thomas retired for the night, as well as Rulfio and his companion. Daud smirked as he bid Rulfio good night, noticing Nadia and Billie chatting away. Nadia wasn’t really a subtle flirt, but she almost seemed too flustered to be her usual forward self. 

Daud stifled a yawn and stood. “I think I’ll call it a night as well,” he said, drawing the pair’s attention. Nadia turned on him with something of an owl eyed look of panic. He smirked down at her, giving her a pat on the shoulder. “Don’t have too much fun.”

“Goodnight, old man,” Billie said, not seeming to notice the exchange. 

Daud nodded and headed off to his room, giving Nadia a wink behind Billie’s back as he left. She’d either thank him or kill him in the morning.

While Daud may have gone to bed, sleep was far off. He was elated to see them again, but that dread the Outsider put in him was back. At least nothing bad happened to the village. But now he knew why the Outsider didn’t know what he would do next. Daud didn’t even know what he would do next.

He wanted to stay on the island. Keep living peacefully, retire and fade away. But they wanted his help killing another Empress. Doing exactly the kind of thing he never wanted to do again, but this time, it was for the good of the empire, or more importantly, for the good of countless citizens being ground under Delilah’s boot. And part of him wanted to finish what he started. If they even stood a chance.

* * *

Corvo barely slept a wink, and was the first one up. He heard the former Whalers talking long into the night. After spending the better part of a year with the man, seeing how he’d changed, Corvo had more or less forgiven Daud, or at least moved past his misdeeds. The same couldn’t be said for those who worked under him. Then again, he’d also spent the better part of a year befriending former criminals, were these people any different?

On the one hand he knew Daud, and the villagers, they’d all reformed from their former lives. Just trying to make do in peace, taking care of each other on the outskirts of society. These people drifted to shore in a smuggling vessel looking for their old murderous boss to help them kill Delilah. That should be far more damning than anything any of the villagers did. But at the same time, Corvo wanted to help them bring the tyrant down, while still judging them. His head was a mess of contradictions.

Then there was whatever transpired with Emily...maybe he was wrong for wanting to forgive Daud. The idea that the man had dealings with Corvo’s daughter beyond his already egregious kidnapping boiled his blood to an irrational degree. He felt inexplicably betrayed that Daud hadn’t mentioned it. At some point he started thinking of him as a friend, he cared about him. That Daud would withhold something like that...maybe he was right. It was in the past now, it didn’t make any difference. 

Corvo heaved himself out of bed and headed to the kitchen, putting a kettle on to boil. He didn’t ask the villagers to source his favorite tea, it was too expensive to justify. But they did manage to scrounge up a decent facsimile. He started it steeping and grabbed a mug, or, he realized, one of the gaudy awful tea cups Kell decided to keep. The ostentatious, cheerful floral patterning almost broke through Corvo’s dark mood for its absurdity. The fine porcelain stood in ridiculous contrast to the mishmash of heavy mugs, tin tankards, and scratched glasses. Corvo set it back on the shelf and grabbed a mug instead, if for no other reason than for its larger volume.

Corvo settled down at one of the tables, sipping his tea in the quiet space. Though before he got half way through he heard Daud’s door open, and saw the man drift down the stairs with a yawn. He disappeared into the kitchen, either not noticing Corvo’s critical gaze or not caring, and emerged with the ridiculous porcelain cup, filled with steaming tea. 

Daud slowly made his way to Corvo’s table, sitting with a heavy sigh, his eyes a little bloodshot, and baring dark circles. He suspected the man hadn’t slept much either.

“I believe I promised you an explanation,” Daud said, his low rasp even hoarser than usual. He winced and sipped his tea.

“Yes, you did,” Corvo grumbled.

Daud cleared his throat before he tried speaking again. “I wasn’t trying to hide anything. It’s just... Like I said. It didn’t feel relevant.”

“I think I’ll be the judge of that,” Corvo said, studying him. His exhaustion seemed more than simply physical.

Daud sighed, staring down at his cup. After a few moments he seemed to notice for the first time which particular cup he selected, the faintest tired look of amusement crossing his features before it faded as quick as it came. He sipped his drink again before he spoke.

”When I...during the coup. The Outsider warned me about Delilah. Set me on her path. I found out she was trying to use her magic to...possess Emily. Replace her,” Daud explained haltingly. “I ended up stopping her. Used her own ritual to trap her in the void. I never thought she’d be able to escape…”

Corvo stared at him, a vague sense of horror settling in as Daud explained. Delilah wanted to _possess_ Emily? He couldn’t imagine...the idea of a stranger’s eyes staring up at him from the face of his child. He opened his mouth a few times before he finally spoke. “How wasn’t that relevant?”

“It’s ancient history. And for all the good it did. I should have killed her when I had the chance,” Daud hissed, gazing into his cup. “I’m sorry.”

Corvo stared at him. “She tried. She tried to replace Emily? How?” How could this have nearly happened? How did Corvo not know about it?

“She was going to trap Emily’s essence in a painting? And swap her soul into Emily’s body. At least I think. I don’t understand her magic particularly well.”

Corvo took a deep breath, still letting it all sink in. “Why did you stop her?”

Daud shook his head. “I...at first it was just a mystery. Who she was, what she was up to. Once I found out...killing the Empress was the greatest mistake I ever made. And I’ve made more than my share of mistakes. Protecting Emily seemed like the right thing. Like the closest thing I could get to undoing what I’d done.” 

Corvo sighed heavily, running a hand down his face. He supposed that made sense, at least from what he’d learned about Daud. 

“I never really wanted to tell you. I couldn’t see any benefit in you learning about Emily having been in danger again,” Daud murmured.

“Well. Thank you. For telling me. And doing it. I can’t imagine if she’d…” he trailed off, shuddering.

“Don’t thank me. I should be apologizing. How everything has played out is my fault,” Daud spat. 

“I’m pretty sure the bastards who hired you and Delilah herself shoulder most of that blame,” Corvo grumbled, resting his face in his hands, Daud cleared his throat awkwardly. Corvo wasn’t really in the mood for his guilt, but at least he seemed to realize what he was doing. 

They fell into silence for a bit, before Daud again cleared his throat. “It looks like you finally have a way off the island, at least. Billie’s happy to take you wherever you want to go. When all’s said and done,” Daud offered, changing the subject.

Corvo blinked. Somehow, in all of his spinning thoughts about the group trying to take out Delilah, the realization that they were a ticket off of this isolated rock didn’t even occur to him. Obviously if he was helping them murder Delilah, he’d at least make it to Dunwall, that is, if they’d even have him. 

“Who is she? I mean who is she to you, Billie Lurk,” Corvo asked. He knew the woman was a former Whaler, one who disappeared, presumed dead like so many other criminals. Her seemingly emotional reunion with Daud was...surprising. At least to Rulfio and Corvo. Baz seemed to know more of Daud’s secrets than anyone, and just smiled when he saw them embrace. 

Daud’s stare grew distant as he considered his answer. “I...you could say she followed me home one day. As a little girl. A runaway, who got herself into some serious trouble. Out of the fireplace and into the fire. I took her in. She was a remarkable, ambitious young woman. A fast learner, clever, stubborn... But eventually she betrayed me, tried to have me killed so she could take my place. She realized her mistake at the last moment and couldn’t go through with it, but I sent her away for it. It was my own damn fault she did what she did. I taught her everything she knew. Including that,” Daud said with a deep sigh. “Regretted it ever since. She was like a daughter to me...Not sure I fully realized it until she was gone. Always hoped I’d be able to see her again.”

Corvo frowned. Not really the explanation he expected, but then again, he wasn’t sure what to expect. It was strange enough contemplating the fact that Daud had a mother, one he apparently cared for greatly. Obviously he had to come from somewhere, but a person like him felt more like a force of nature than any sort of human. Though Corvo supposed he’d been learning plenty about Daud’s human side the last months. The idea that he’d adopt some street kid seemed very in keeping with what Corvo was learning. 

“Well, I’m glad you got the opportunity. Even if the circumstances could be...better,” Corvo murmured, his words eliciting the faintest smile from Daud’s lips. Corvo was telling the truth, he was happy for him. Obviously, he couldn’t particularly relate to the situation. But he could relate to loving an independent, fierce, and headstrong daughter.

“It sounds like they need your magic to fight Delilah... You were able to trap her in the void before. Does that mean you have any idea how to kill her? Could it have something to do with why she’s untouchable?”

Daud shook his head. “I’ve wondered since I heard she was out how she did it. I have no clue. It's half the reason I didn’t make a move when she reappeared. Hopefully Billie and the others have some idea. I doubt they’d be here otherwise.” 

“You’re right, we do,” Thomas’s voice said as he approached the table. Corvo didn’t even hear the man leave his room. Apparently once a sneak, always a sneak. He offered Corvo a polite bow. “Lord Attano.” 

Corvo just grunted in acknowledgment, not bothering to correct him like he did the villagers. “So, what’s the plan then?”

“I believe Billie will have an easier time articulating it than I. Though I should mention, Lord Attano, we would be appreciative of your assistance, if you chose to offer it. Not many could sneak past us at our prime, but you did. I also would like to thank you for simply knocking me out, instead of killing me back then,” the man said with a faint almost ironic bow. 

“I’m more than happy to help you take down Delilah…” Corvo growled. 

“What’s the plan once she’s dead though? Won’t some other tyrant just take her place?” Daud asked. 

Thomas shrugged as he took a seat at the table. “That’s...unclear. But we can’t help but believe anyone would be better than Delilah. At least some run of the mill corrupt noble wouldn’t have a coven of witches magically terrorizing her subjects and conducting mass executions.”

Daud grunted. “Point taken. Black eyed bastard really outdid himself with that one.”

Thomas nodded. “She’s insane. And she seems to grow more paranoid and madder by the day. Her and her coven were...strange before, but I don’t remember them being quite so unhinged. I saw a group of them just hunting a man for sport in the streets. I don’t think he even did anything. 

“Everyone who can has fled the city, everyone who can’t just lives in fear on the brink of starvation. She’s starting to bring some industry back in, mostly just dedicated to war, with the help of highborns who are loyal to her. They pay their workers next to nothing, they might as well be slaves. If the workers step out of line they’re as good as dead, or fired, which amounts to the same thing. She and the Serkonan forces have been mounting defenses and preemptive strikes on the Northern isles that agitate against her.”

“Shit…” Daud muttered. He knew the papers were obfuscating things, but he couldn’t imagine it was that bad. It put a new twist on the stories about how Delilah was bringing industry to Dunwall. 

Thomas filled them in on Dunwall’s dire condition. The first six months or so, the city fell into complete chaos and ruin, Delilah killing everyone and anyone who seemed remotely on Emily’s side. Or anyone who questioned her in the slightest. Her magic and her witches changed large swaths of the city into strange unnatural forests and gardens. It made Corvo wonder if he’d been moved to Delilah’s garden at all while he was encased in stone, or if she’d simply transformed the hall like she did so many other things. He’d been so disoriented when he changed back, it was hard to say.

Apparently at some point she’d tried to change a swath of citizenry like she had the city, and rendered them all mindless drones. She also converted an entire heavily populated city block to a park in the process. Though her attempts to reshape the city had slowed after that. Thomas heard from his sources the ritual hadn’t quite gone as planned.

After a time, Nadia appeared. She greeted them almost sheepishly, then ducked in low to whisper something to Daud before she scurried away, causing the man to smirk. Or for his smirk to grow wider, he looked knowing and smug the second she stepped foot on the stairs. A while later, Billie came downstairs, and the actual discussions could begin.

She told her story of how she and Sokolov actually set off looking for Corvo, and wound up escorting Emily around the isles instead. She detailed what they learned, or at least what Emily told them. They determined Delilah put her spirit into some sort of magical object, and Emily had taken it to Dunwall in hopes of finally defeating Delilah. And that’s when Emily disappeared.

Billie was able to discover through her connection with the old Whalers that the artifact holding Delilah’s spirit was sent back to Karnaca. Emily had cleverly managed to replace the Duke with his own body double, but unfortunately for him, Delilah was enraged by his failure to protect her spirit, and either had him imprisoned or killed, sources were split. Regardless, he’d been replaced seemingly by another member of Delilah’s inner circle who now held the artifact. The plan was to get the artifact back, and try to take down Delilah again, only preferably with several heavily armed, hopefully magically enhanced thugs instead of a single highly adept empress.

Finally Daud sighed, looking exhausted as he heaved himself to his feet. “I have to...think on it. Excuse me,” Daud grumbled, marching to the door and out of the inn without another word. The newcomers exchanged glances amongst themselves, Rulfio awkwardly clearing his throat.

“Has he gotten weirder? Or was he always like this and I just didn’t notice.”

“A bit of both, I think,” Billie said with a note of fondness in her voice. 

“He has changed,” Corvo said, almost despite himself. He glanced around at their curious faces. They seemed as surprised as Corvo was that he’d become friends with Daud. It was still a little surreal. “And you’re asking him to do the one thing he hoped to never do again.”

They fell into awkward silence, Rulfio and Thomas almost looking guilty, their gazes downcast. Just as Corvo was excusing himself, Billie spoke up. “Corvo… Emily left something I think you should have.” 

Corvo raised a brow, eyeing her. He expected her to look away. The others, including Daud, were almost a little sheepish dealing with him. Or Daud had been, they were well past that now. But she looked back at him, her good eye tired but quietly resolved. He could see why Daud treasured her. 

“It’s still back on the ship, you’re welcome to accompany me to get it,” she said, standing. Corvo nodded, and followed her out the door. 

They walked in silence for a while before the question itching in Corvo’s mind finally made it to his lips. “Did Emily know? Who you were. When you were helping her…”

Billie shook her head. “Not for most of it. But I did tell her, eventually. I felt she deserved to know.”

Corvo scowled. “How did she take it?”

“She was angry. But I’m still alive, aren’t I?” she said, sounding more resigned than anything. After a pause she sighed, shaking her head. “Corvo...I’m sorry I couldn’t…”

“What happened? Exactly.”

Billie sighed heavily, rubbing her forehead. “She...was angry. And set off to Dunwall by herself. She never made it back to the ship. What exactly happened to her, I don’t know. I’ve heard rumors, some say Delilah’s secretly holding her prison somewhere, even though no one’s seen her alive. Also heard people swearing they saw her dead...displayed as a warning in the great hall...”

Corvo swallowed thickly, grinding his teeth. If only he’d been there …

“Thank you for helping her. And telling me.”

“I only wish we could have done more.”

They walked in silence again, the village dirt soon changing to sand as they approached the long dock. “Did Sokolov know who you were?” he asked, changing the subject before he dwelled too long on Emily’s fate.

“Yes. He knows a thing or two about regrets…” 

Corvo nodded. That he did.

Soon enough they made their way up the gangplank and onto the ship. Billie led him into its great steel belly, and to a small room. She pulled out a book, handing it to Corvo with a frown.

“Emily’s journal. She kept it pretty faithfully for those months...I thought of trying to get it to Wyman, but didn’t want to put them at risk,” she said somberly as Corvo almost hesitantly cracked it open. He recognized Emily’s handwriting immediately. “Take your time. I’ll be back at the inn with the others.”

Corvo nodded, feeling weak in the knees, holding a remnant of Emily in his hands. Her final days committed to unfeeling paper. He took a shuddering breath when he heard Billie disappear up the stairs. He slid into a nearby chair, and ran his fingers down the pages, sorrow digging into his core, but also gratitude. To have this little part of her…

When he finished the journal, he set it aside gently, resolve and anger coming over him. He would not let all of her sacrifices be in vain. They _would_ stop Delilah. And the others were right, for their best chance, they’d need Daud’s help. Suddenly Daud’s indecision grated on Corvo. He had to find the man, and talk some sense into him.

He looked around when he disembarked from the ship. He knew most of Daud’s haunts, where he’d wander off to think. Unless he’d gone to yell at the Outsider, he probably wasn’t far off. He couldn’t see any silhouettes in the lighthouse, so not there, and he obviously wasn’t on the dock. Corvo instead made his way to an outcropping of rock jutting over the sea, separating the harbor from the island’s other shores. There was a smooth ledge, somewhat sheltered, and only accessible if you could blink to it. A spot where the villagers couldn’t reach, but Corvo could.

Sure enough, he found the man sitting against the cold stone, staring out over the ocean. He barely even looked up when Corvo appeared.

“Daud. You have to-”

“Yeah, I know. I have to do it. I’m going to do it, I just...don’t like it,” he said with a sigh, almost looking sorrowful. “I just...I wish I could stay here a little while longer. But it was never really in the cards for someone like me to fade away and retire.”

Corvo frowned, his frustration and anger fizzling away. It wasn’t what Corvo expected to hear, yet was exactly what he should have expected. Of course he was going to help. Corvo was almost embarrassed with himself for doubting it. That uninvited fondness bloomed in his gut as he settled on the stone next to him. 

“When it’s all over I’m sure you could come back…” Corvo offered weakly. Daud turned a tired, almost bemused look on him.

“Never took you for an optimist. You know as well I do it’ll take a void damned miracle for us to make it out of this.”

Corvo scowled, biting his lip. He wasn’t wrong. “I’m sure we can come up with a plan…”

“You’re damn right we’ll come up with a plan. I’m not going to have us throw away our lives for nothing. We _will_ end Delilah’s reign. Finish what I started…” Daud growled. Corvo nodded. Conversation faded and Corvo found himself looking out over the sea, until he felt Daud’s eyes on him, he looked back at the man with a faint frown. “How are you doing? With...all of this…” Daud asked haltingly. Corvo’s frown deepened. 

“It’s good to have a purpose again. I don’t belong here.”

“Honestly? Neither do I. None of us do. But it has been nice to rest…”

Corvo looked him over, that inexplicable urge to gather the man into his arms rising again, but he pushed it away. Corvo hated how much he wanted to. He could see how much pain he was in. He was being asked to do the very thing he swore to never do again. Yet he knew this time it was the right thing. 

He wanted to reach out and touch him so badly, yet felt like there was an invisible wall between them. One built out of pain and death, it collapsed that night at the bonfire, but it was back, with the painful reminder of their pasts. Corvo wished he was strong enough to push past it. 

“Well, I guess I’ll leave you alone then…” Corvo said eventually, softly, and a little reluctantly, starting to sit up. But Daud blindly reached out through that invisible wall, his gaze still cast out over the sea, his hand coming to rest on Corvo’s bicep, stopping him.

“I don’t mind the company,” he said quietly, in that rough rasp. Corvo smiled softly, that was about as clear of a request for him to stay as the Old Knife was capable of. He put his hand over Daud’s giving it a gentle squeeze as he leaned back against the cliff face. 

And they rested, for just a little while longer.

* * *

“There’s still too few of us for any sort of frontal assault,” Daud announced as he barged his way back into the tavern. It was nearing dusk, but everyone was still waiting around, waiting on him. Several of the regulars had also appeared, including Nadia and Baz, seemingly almost as eager as the former Whalers. They jumped to attention when he appeared and spoke, Corvo trailing a few steps behind. “Even if there’s more volunteers in Dunwall, I can’t just give them my powers, it doesn’t work that way.”

Daud was exhausted in a way that weighed on his soul, but at the same time felt a level of jittery excitement; the same kind he had whenever they got a big job. He used to savor that feeling, the anticipation, the careful scheming and watching a plan come together.

“I know, the hope is we can have enough people to cause some sort of diversion while a small enhanced team infiltrates and gets to Delilah,” Thomas explained in his eternally calm way, levering himself away from the bar to return to their table. 

“Who would cause the diversion?” Daud asked. The former Whalers exchanged hesitant looks as they took their seats.

“There’s us, then… believe it or not, Lizzy Stride and her Dead Eels are still around, we’ve talked with Stride, but she was hesitant. The hatters are keeping them very busy. But we were hoping once we had you onboard you’d be able to help bring her around,” Billie said.

“Should have known she’d still be in the game. But if she’s made it this long it’s because she’s not stupid, and so far this plan still sounds pretty damn stupid.”

“No dumber than leaving Delilah alone,” Rulfio said. “And we’ve been talking to Nadia who’s pretty sure she can be convinced. She’s coming along to help.”

Daud nodded at that, only a little suspicious Nadia might have a few Billie related ulterior motives for coming along, but he supposed it didn’t matter. She did used to be part of Lizzy’s crew, if anyone knew how she ticked it would be her. And Daud liked to think he might still have some clout with the woman. Breaking her out of prison was no small feat. “If there was a frontal assault, who’s to say Delilah wouldn’t just join her witches in the attack?”

“Not a chance, she’s paranoid and crazy as all hell, keeps herself squirreled away day and night. If she didn’t drone over the loudspeaker with her rambling from time to time, I’d be half convinced she was dead,” Rulfio said.

“Alright. Let's say for some reason Stride does decide to cooperate. What’s going to keep them from getting gutted like the Overseers did? Maybe they’ll be prepared for the clockwork soldiers, but it’s not like they can do anything against her witches.” 

“I think that’s where your magic is supposed to come in,” Corvo muttered. Thomas tilted his head in agreement.

“So what, including Corvo, that’s a whole five of us? And I thought a team was going directly after Delilah,” Daud pointed out.

“And you can’t just do like some ritual or whatever to give more folks powers?” Baz asked as no answers were forthcoming from the ones who supposedly were coming up with the whole plan.

“Nah. It just kind of...happens, if you hang around Daud enough. Like shankers,” Rulfio explained helpfully with a grin, while Daud leveled a glare at him.

“Like _what?_ ” Daud hissed.

“Wait, that came out wrong, Daud doesn’t have shankers, I mean. It spreads like shankers do. If he had them.”

“It’s a bit more nuanced than that...” Daud grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose, still not particularly appreciating the metaphor.

“If that’s true, how come half the village don’t got them by now?” Baz asked. “I know a load of us’d be glad to help you.”

Daud pressed his lips into a thin line as Baz stared at him expectantly. “Even if...connections have spread to them, I have to activate it, so to speak. It’s difficult to explain. And it’s certainly not _half_ the village...”

Baz stared at him in disbelief. “What? Who’s got it then?!”

Daud sighed, he’d felt the connections growing, developing over time. But none of them really expressed interest in having powers, so he never brought it up. It didn’t seem right, giving people powers they didn’t ask for. And probably a little creepy to mention out of the blue.

He started ticking off on his fingers. “You, Kell, Nadia, Amelia for some reason, Anaya, which...I don’t even know how that one works, Margana. And I’m pretty sure Corvo...”

Corvo blinked at him. “What?”

He shrugged helplessly at Corvo. He could only assume Corvo’s own mark made it easier for the connection to form. Or something. Though it did feel somehow different from the others. “I don’t even know what would happen if I activated yours,” he said honestly. Corvo grunted, sitting back in his chair, he didn’t seem to have a clue either.

Baz huffed. “Well...If Nadia’s goin’ she can make it six magic folk,” he said gesturing to the woman, who readily agreed. “And I can make it seven.”

Daud blinked at him. “Excuse me?”

“I’m comin’ with, so. Hit me up with those void shankers.”

Rulfio barked a laugh, while Daud sighed. “Baz, you don’t need to come…”

“Nah, I don’t need to do shit, but y’all need all the help you can get, so I’m in.”

“Are you really sure about this? You’re not exactly the bruiser you were in your youth.”

“Yeah, still younger than your crusty old ass though. Daud, I’m helpin’. I can’t sit around here knowing y’all are doin’ this shit. I gotta. And if it’s so damn hard to spread your powers around, you need all the help you can get there. Me’n Nadia can train on the boat before we even gotta get to Dunwall. We’ve got plenty of time,” Baz explained, heaving himself to his feet and pretty much looming over Daud. 

Daud couldn’t believe it but...he knew this was a debate he’d lose. “Fine,” he finally sighed. He reached out through the void with his mind, touching Baz’s and Nadia’s connection, setting them alight. He could feel the faint humming surge through the void, suddenly making him aware of their presence on a different level, settling quietly at the back of his mind with the others. “There, it’s done. For both of you.”

Baz stood up straight, blinking. “Don’t feel any different.”

“Trust me. You have the bond now.”

“So, how do you? Wait, don’t tell me. You always do that thing with your hand. Pick a spot and-” Baz muttered half to himself, squinting across the room. He raised his hand and, to Daud’s shock, disappeared in a flutter of void, then reappeared across the room with a stream of startled profanity. The three former Whalers looked equally shocked.

“Well. Seems he’s a natural…” Billie mused, sounding impressed. Even with ample instruction, it often took newly bonded days if not weeks to get any sort of grasp on their powers. Billie had been his fastest before, but he at least explained to her how it worked first, and it still took her a few tries. 

“What? How, show me!” Nadia demanded, balling her hand into a fist and going nowhere, luckily Baz was happy to take over her tutelage, while the others turned back to the conversation.

“I know Kell can’t come with us, but you named a few others, would any of them be willing to help?” Thomas asked, leaning forward.

“One’s a, uh, fragile musician, one’s a toddler, and one’s a seventy year old woman with a heart condition. So no.” Daud explained, Thomas’s expression falling as he did.

“Oh.”

“The Overseers must have brought music boxes, I don’t suppose anyone was able to loot them?” Corvo asked, arms folded as he eyed the Whalers.

Thomas shook his head. “The witches had them all destroyed.”

“Figures,” Daud grumbled.

“You need music boxes? I know where you can find some,” Theo piped up from the bar, startling the group. They all turned in unison, staring at the man. “In fact I know how to make them too. It’s surprisingly easy...very basic design once you crack them open.”

“You… _what_?” Daud practically hissed, in utter disbelief. “Aren’t the workings of those things some of the Abbey’s closest guarded secrets?”

“Oh, certainly, yes. There was only a few dozen of us who maintained production of them,” he said casually, wandering over to their table with a tray full of glasses, a bowl of nuts, a pitcher of beer, and a jug of one of Baz’s concoctions.

“You...made them?” Corvo asked, equally dumbfounded. 

“Only occasionally, when we had a particularly large order. I mostly studied heretical artifacts shipped to us, to help determine the best way to combat heresy. Know thy enemy, and all that.”

Daud just stared jaw agape. In retrospect, he wasn’t sure why he never just _asked_ Theo what he did in the Abbey. It seemed like a sensitive topic, and Daud just assumed he was some sort of regular grunt who wound up getting bewitched by a bone charm, or took too deep an interest in the heresy they fought. 

“And you’d be willing to help us acquire music boxes?” Billie asked.

“Certainly. Each and every one of you is a heretic. But I’ve come to realize there’s different...degrees of heresy. Delilah is so much worse than either witch seated here,” he said, gesturing to Corvo and Daud. “I always believed there was value in talking to heretics. Working with them to some degree. Just think of the Abbey’s gains if only we could convert some of the worst heretics. Some of my brothers even suggested the ancient music itself was a form of heretical magic, and they’ve been invaluable. But no...apparently such a suggestion alone bordered on heresy.”

“What… _did_ you get branded for?” Daud asked, curiosity overwhelming him. Yes, they were in the midst of plotting to kill Delilah, but…

“Oh, they claimed I was corrupted by the artifacts I studied. They said I was sneaking off in the middle of the night, hoarding whale bone.”

Daud and Corvo exchanged uneasy glances.

“You still...do...that…” Corvo said hesitantly, as gently as possible. Theo just sighed.

“I suppose that’s no surprise. Though it was absurd to brand me as opposed to help me, it’s not as if I do it on purpose. That seems to be a theme with the Outsider’s meddling. He doesn’t necessarily appear to those who call, then will simply inflict himself on those who never asked to begin with.” 

Corvo and Daud again exchanged glances. After a beat, Corvo just shrugged and reached to pour himself a beer. Daud followed suit, reaching for the jug instead.

“So we can have some sort of strike team armed with music boxes for the witches, and grenades for the clockwork soldiers. A few people with powers to disrupt their back lines, then myself and Corvo could probably infiltrate in the chaos and find Delilah.” Daud threw his head back, downing his liquor in one go, before he slammed the glass down on the table, the apprehension twisting into near giddiness. “Alright. Let’s kill another empress.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -alternate chapter title: Hugs.  
> -Can you believe a teenage girl obliterated the two most dangerous men in the empire with one word?  
> -<3


	6. Past

Preparing to kill Delilah wasn’t as simple as sitting around and making a plan then sticking a blade in her neck. Sometimes it was that simple, but certainly not in her case. There were many preparations to be made, even before they could get on Billie’s boat. Daud busied himself with finally writing down specific directions for all of the villagers’ assorted medical needs. Most of it _was_ written down various places, in journals, on scraps stuck in books, or notes tied to bottles. But much of it, too much of it, was just in Daud’s head, or written in such incoherent shorthand it might as well have been code.

He was going over everything with Kell, the inventory he was leaving behind, what herbs needed to be harvested and when, who’s medications were who's and what doses. The fact that so many of the island’s inhabitants were growing advanced in years gave Daud no shortage of work looking after them. He hoped Kell would delegate most of his duties, there was far too much for her to manage on her own on top of her responsibilities around the inn. 

“I would have mixed Margana’s tinctures but they degrade if the solids and the alcohols are together for more than a week, it becomes less potent. But I portioned out the dry weight-”

“You already mentioned that. I got it.” 

“Remind Laurice to stay away from the lotuses once they start blooming unless he wants to die. If he doesn’t, be sure to really, really crush up those salts I showed you and try and get him to inhale them-”

“I know…”

“And make sure Gregory sticks to his diet so the dipshit doesn’t give himself scurvy again.”

“Daud…”

“And someone should take Rennie his medicinal tea. He forgets. I mean, the tea is _supposed_ to help with that, it’s a bit of a vicious cycle-”

 _“Daud,”_ Kell practically barked.

“What?”

“You’re being a mother hen.”

He sputtered. “A _what?”_

Kell laughed, grabbing him by the shoulders with a fond, bittersweet smile. “You’ve written it all down, it’s fine, we’ll be fine. We managed without you for years,” Kell said with a chuckle. 

Daud ran a hand down his face with a heavy sigh. She was right. He just hated the idea of leaving everything.

“Go, kick Delilah’s ass for us. But no damn heroics, okay? I know you want to blame yourself, but if I find out you did some self sacrificing bullshit I’ll find a way to pull your sorry essence back out of the void so I can stuff my foot up your ass, got me?” Kell said, and while she was obviously trying to be silly and hyperbolic, real worry shown through in her tone, and the tears that started welling in her eyes. 

Daud smiled softly, honestly touched by her concern. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to stay alive.”

She gave a firm nod. “Good.” She pulled him in for a hug, and planted a kiss on his stubble laden cheek, before pulling away. “You all take care of each other. Shit, it’s gonna be so much quieter around here without you five…”

Daud nodded, and sighed. “Thank you, Kell. For everything. This is the first place I’ve really been able to call home for...over forty years-”

“Nope, no, you shut your mouth. This is starting to sound too much like a forever goodbye, and that’s not fucking allowed. You’re coming back, you’re all coming back, understood?” Kell snapped, the tears in her eyes spilling over as Daud heard others entering the inn.

“Daud, you makin’ Kell cry? What an asshole,” Baz barked from behind them, and the next thing he knew, Daud was being dragged into a group hug with Baz and Kell. It was good Baz was so adept at transversing, but he was already using it to be a pest. Nadia trotted up behind them, and joined in, throwing her arms around Daud and Kell as well. Daud had to smile despite himself. To his surprise, even Theo joined in after a few moments.

“Kell, you’re the best heretic I’ve had the pleasure of knowing,” he said lightly, making Kell snort through her tears.

“Fuck you, Theo,” she managed, while still sounding incredibly fond. “You’re coming back, you’re all coming back.”

Eventually they let Daud escape the hug, though Kell zeroed in on Corvo, who’d avoided it all up until now. She marched over to him, and gave him a hug too, whether he wanted it or not. 

“Corvo, you’re not half the aristocratic bastard I thought you’d be. You better at least come back and visit, got it?” she pretty much demanded, pinning him in a crushing bear hug. He smiled, chuckling softly as he hugged her back. 

“Of course. Thank you again, Kell. For everything. I owe you.”

Kell nodded, stepping back, and scrubbing her eyes. “Now get, all of you. Before I lose my shit again. Take care of yourselves.”

And with that, they headed out, Baz and Nadia shouting back promises to return soon, while Daud and Kell just exchanged one last silent nod. He sincerely hoped he’d be able to come back. But he knew the gravity of their mission. Knew that he was going to be key to the most dangerous part of their plan. Knew that the fate of the empire was more important than his life. But he’d keep true to his word, as true as he could. No sacrificial bullshit. He’d do whatever he could make it back. Make it home.

It didn’t take long for Daud to remember how much he hated traveling by boat. The first night Daud found himself laying awake, his stomach rolling around in time with the ship. The sea was actually relatively peaceful that evening, but his stomach still complained. The sorry pile of blankets serving as a sleeping mat wasn’t doing him any favors either. Due to getting off at the first stop, he and Corvo had been relegated to the belly of the ship, and did not have the privilege of any of the beds or sleeping mats which were in short supply. 

He heard Corvo get up at some point late into the evening but didn’t take much note, assuming he was going to the head like what felt like every other damned person on the ship. Though as time dragged on and he didn’t return, Daud grew curious.

He found Corvo out on the deck, leaning over the rail. Daud came up to lean on the rail next to him.

“You seasick too?” he asked with half a smirk as Corvo glanced up, but the man shook his head, brow furrowed.

“Don’t you hear them?”

Daud scowled, about to ask what in the void Corvo was talking about, when he heard them. A shrill squeal, followed by a long, low, almost mournful groan. Whales. “They’ve been following us for a while…”

“What? You sure about that?” Daud asked, looking out over the inky dark water. There was barely a sliver of moon in the sky, and a decent cover of clouds. He could authoritatively say it was in fact darker than the void out. Still, as they traveled, another thrumming whale call rose out of the darkness. He was surprised he hadn’t heard them before he came out. His lingering nausea and the sounds of the ship must have consumed his attention.

“I’m sure. I think I met one of them before,” Corvo said cryptically.

“...What?”

Corvo cleared his throat, glancing sideways at Daud, apparently realizing how mad he sounded. “When I fell overboard. It took me a bit to remember, it all felt like a dream. I possessed a whale. It got me to shore. But it was...different. Not like how the magic usually works. The whale decided to help me, I couldn’t really control it. I think she’s down there…”

Daud grunted. “Always assumed magic was involved getting you to shore. Guess that would explain it.”

“I wonder why she’s here…” Corvo murmured, peering over the railing into the inky water.

“I’ve heard whales are pretty smart. Maybe she’s curious how you’re doing? You weren’t in great shape last she saw,” Daud suggested half heartedly. Honestly he couldn’t imagine what a whale would want with anyone. Usually realizing a whale, or from the sound of it, several whales, were following his ship, would make him extremely nervous. Tales of them ganging up and destroying vessels weren’t unheard of. He prefered to hope they were friendly.

“That’s what I was thinking,” Corvo said before he, to Daud’s alarm, hopped the railing. 

“What are you doing?!” Daud hissed, as Corvo carefully crept down the bulging sides of the ship, dangerously close to the water. In fact, waves kicked up and sloshed over his boots as they steamed through the night. Thomas was at the helm, probably blissfully unaware that one of their passengers was apparently trying to fall overboard.

Corvo held onto the uneven hatches, which weren’t really adequate handholds, as he peered into the dark water, reaching out. “Since she’s here, I’d like to thank her,” Corvo said, nearly losing his grip as a larger than average wave washed over his footing. In an instant Daud was over the railing himself, one hand gripped firmly on the rail, the other snagging Corvo’s wrist.

“Are you insane?!”

Corvo blinked at Daud’s sudden appearance, then rolled his eyes at him. “You’re not the only one who can stop time and transverse, remember?” he pointed out calmly with almost an indulgent look. Nonetheless, he also clasped his hand down on Daud’s wrist, giving himself a secure anchor.

Daud huffed. He had a point. “Yes. If you can react quick enough, this boat’s moving at a fair clip-” he started before he gasped, an immense, dark shape slowly rising to the surface next to them, keeping pace with the boat. There was something terrifying about the beast. Despite the dark, he could glimpse its long ragged row of teeth. Its immense mass moved with such power, yet there was also beauty in the way something so large seemed to effortlessly glide through the water.

Daud hadn’t been this close to a live whale aside from the one hanging, being slowly tortured to death in the Rothwild Slaughterhouse. He’d been struck by the heartless cruelty of it all, which was saying something, considering he was a professional murderer at the time. He’d been glad to be able to put it out of its misery. He almost regretted not bringing the whole damn factory to the ground behind him.

The leviathan rolled on its side as it swam, fixing a tremendous yellow eye on them. Daud swore he could see intelligence glinting in it as it studied them. The beast was magnificent... and immense. She had to be at least the length of the ship.

A loud, thrumming moan filled the air as it began swimming faster. Corvo reached out, his fingers grazing along the great creatures flipper, the mark on his hand sparking blue as they touched. The whale then peeled away from the ship, there was a burst of air and water from its spout, and it disappeared below the waves.

“Satisfied?” Daud asked, Corvo turned back to him with an unmistakable grin on his face.

“Yeah,” he said simply, blinking back onto the deck, as if to make a point. Though he reached out to assist Daud as he climbed back over the railing. 

“Thanks for the help, made it easier...It was definitely her. I think she’s pregnant,” Corvo said, staring back out over the water again. Daud blinked at him.

“How in the void do you know that?”

“I don’t know…I’m glad she’s okay though.”

Daud grunted in agreement, also looking out over the inky void of the ocean. It had grown quiet, the calls of the other whales fading as she disappeared under the waves. Though the quiet didn’t last for long, as a short while later there was a surge of water, and suddenly the immense creature breached right along the ship. Daud staggered back, bumping into Corvo as its enormous mass loomed unbelievably large in the dark. Corvo caught him, gently holding him steady by the shoulders as the creature slammed down with a thunderous crash. The impact sent a wall of frigid water over Daud and Corvo, and drenching the deck of the ship. The wave was great enough to send the entire vessel rocking, nearly knocking both of them off their feet.

Daud stood in frozen disbelief, drenched from head to toe. Corvo let go and stepped away as he laughed, shaking seawater from his hair. It took a few moments for Daud to recover from his stunned awe at what had just happened, when he did, he spun on Corvo, ready to reprimand him. But his mirth was disarming, even when he laughed at the village, there always seemed to be an underlying sadness he couldn’t escape. Now his eyes sparkled even in the dark.

Corvo was the only one delighted, however. The motors spun down on the ship, and they heard shouts from inside.

“What just happened?” Thomas barked, appearing behind them - he and the others re-adapted to having magic back very quickly. Daud shook his head, as Corvo continued to chuckle.

“I think she’s glad I’m okay too,” Corvo said.

“What? Who?” Thomas sputtered. 

“I’m going to let Corvo explain this one, while I change into dry clothes,” Daud grumbled, heading for the stairs below deck. 

“What happened--Why are you wet?” Billie asked, nearly running into Daud as he headed back inside, doing a double take as she came across him. He waved her away with a grunt. 

“Ship’s fine. Ask Corvo…” he grumbled.

It took a while for Corvo to explain the situation, and for the hubbub to die down. Granted, “an enormous whale was messing with the ship” didn’t sit particularly well with most of the passengers. But they seemed to take Corvo’s word for it eventually that the beast meant them no harm. 

Daud found a spot to hang his soaking wet shirt, only to realize he couldn't find his dry clothes, someone had helpfully moved his bag for him. Eventually the engines started back up, and everyone slowly filed back to bed, and Corvo returned, still looking amused. He even found Daud’s bag, hidden under his own. He tossed it to him.

“Sorry about that,” Corvo said, rummaging for his own dry clothes. 

“Is befriending wild animals just something you do? First the rat, now a whale…” Daud asked, pulling his shirt on almost self consciously as he swore he saw Corvo’s eyes linger on him, and his many scars. Corvo shook his head, eyes drifting to the shirt in his own hand. 

“Those are the only two, really. I wonder if the rat will stick around now that I’m gone. The kids will be awfully disappointed if he doesn’t.”

“I’m sure they’ll get over it,” Daud said, finding his pants, and quickly changing, grateful the water hadn’t soaked through to his undergarments.

“I’ve never seen anything like that,” Corvo murmured, sounding awestruck still. 

“Me neither. It was...something. Just don’t tell her what this ship runs off of,” Daud grumbled, settling down on his sorry excuse for a bedroll. Corvo sighed at that.

“You know, there were efforts to ban, or at least curb whaling before Delilah...happened. People weren’t taking it very seriously though.”

“A ban would probably would be for the best. Have you seen what they do to the creatures in whale oil plants?” Daud asked, Corvo shook his head. “They just torture the things...It’s not right…” 

Corvo frowned. “Had some people insisting it was needlessly cruel. Everyone poo-pooed them like they were naive, and that it was no worse than any other butchery. I guess I didn’t realize they were right.”

“Damn near anyone who’s visited one of those plants could have told you what happens,” Daud pointed out, Corvo frowned, his shoulders sagging. 

“You’re right. I guess we just...didn’t bother to look.”

Daud shook his head, letting the subject die. Emily wasn’t a terrible leader, by a long shot. But she wasn’t exactly great either. He noticed whenever Emily’s...lacking rule came up, Corvo tended to blame himself. Having a child who was also an empress had to be a unique kind of burden. He couldn’t blame Corvo for everything Emily did or didn’t do, if he had too much influence at court that would have caused all kinds of problems. Besides, he likely had his hands full with his duties that didn’t involve counseling Emily’s every decision. 

Though he did wonder how many issues arose at court where he or Emily simply didn’t “bother to look.” And from Corvo’s grim expression and furrowed brow, he seemed to be wondering the same thing.

* * *

Karnaca wasn’t the city Corvo remembered. It wasn’t the city Daud remembered either. Even as Billie ferried them to shore on the outskirts of the city, in the dead of night, it felt wrong. It was too quiet, too dark. Yet in the distance other districts seemed to glow disproportionately bright.

Despite the alarmingly frequent walls of light, navigating the rooftops made navigating the city a relatively easy task. The poorer districts were hardly even patrolled. It seemed like every other building was shut down due to bloodfly infestation. Few people wandered the streets, and those who did looked exhausted, head down, minding their own business.

Their destination sat near the border of the bloodfly infested squalor and the glowing wealthy district, teetering on the edge of an apparently newly minted red light district. Not the best location, but respectable enough. It seemed Sokolov had managed to do what he did best in Karnaca: ingratiating himself among the wealthy elites. While Delilah seemed to dislike the man, he’d schmoozed himself into the good graces of enough nobles for her to leave him alone. Some generous “patrons” even let him use a luxurious loft where he could paint, tinker, entertain...and house fugitives.

The two blinked to Sokolov’s balcony, and knocked on the door. He and Billie had arranged for such a greeting should she be successful in finding Daud, as much as the old man wanted to be woken in the middle of the night unexpectedly by a grizzled old assassin. 

It took a few minutes before Sokolov appeared, hunched and in a nightgown, to let them in, though when he spotted Corvo, his eyes went wide.

“Corvo! You- we thought you were dead- and, Daud. She found you, you- I think you two have a lot to explain,” he hissed, frantically waving them inside. “Where’s Megan- Billie, rather.”

The two exchanged glances, Daud gesturing for Corvo to do the honors, as Sokolov did have his attention focused on him. He was the one he and Billie tried to find initially, after all. When explanations turned into something akin to catching up, Daud decided to excuse himself, declaring that he would go get a head start on scouting the area. They had weeks to accomplish their mission, indeed it was even advisable for them to wait some time before making the attempt, but Corvo had the distinct impression Daud simply felt uncomfortable, and wanted an excuse to leave. 

Despite the late hour, Sokolov eagerly invited Corvo to his study, pouring them both whisky without even asking as he settled in.

“I’m glad to see you’re alive or...I suppose back in the world of the living. I feel like this plan just became much more likely to succeed,” Sokolov said, raising his glass in a half toast.

Corvo nodded. “I’m glad I can help. And that Daud is willing...I can’t give people magic like he can. I hope they can actually get those music boxes on top of it.”

Sokolov grunted, nodding. “Strange bedfellows, but indeed. And don’t sell yourself short, I know what you were able to accomplish during the first coup.”

“That was a long time ago, and very different circumstances.”

“Maybe so, but now you’re older, and wiser,” Sokolov said with a twinkle in his eye as he reached for a fine wooden box, he pulled it out, offering Corvo a cigar. Actual, professionally made, properly aged cigars. To go with whisky that was actually refined and complex, and not some excessively alcoholic spirit that was seemingly put into a much abused wooden cask and shaken violently before Baz tried to pass it off as whisky. 

Corvo gratefully took one. As he took his first drag, he was struck by an unsettling thought. The finely furnished study, with its plush upholstered armchairs, fine rug, good spirits...it felt more at home than the village had. This place with its signifiers of wealth made Corvo more comfortable in a few minutes than living among friendly people in poverty had for months. He knew he missed parts of his life, but it was...disconcerting to realize how ingrained into his bones it had become. So much for being a man of modest origins…

Corvo tried to push the thought out of his mind as he and Sokolov caught up. The man was still full of stories, and full of life, even if he was tired. Not simply because of the late hour, it was apparent everything had taken its toll on the man. As he explained, he never again wanted to be involved in such intrigues. But he simply couldn’t live with himself if he stood by and did nothing. There seemed to be a lot of that going around lately.

Eventually the topic drifted back to his new companions, and Daud. 

“You met Daud before, right? Didn’t you paint his portrait?” Corvo asked.

“Yes, I did. He didn’t pose for me, naturally, had to pull it together from memory much later. Still think I captured his likeness quite well,” Sokolov mused, swirling his whisky as he leaned back in his chair, crossing his hairy exposed ankles. He remained in his nightgown, robe, and house slippers, giving the excuse that he was now old, and could do what he damn well pleased. 

“How did you meet him? How well did you know him?” Corvo asked, leaning forward, suddenly intrigued. Sokolov’s uncanny memory for faces and details was legendary. But Corvo knew he couldn’t pull together such an image from a chance encounter or two. 

“That’s a story I’ve told many times, but haven’t been asked about in ages,” Sokolov said with a dry laugh. “I suppose it’s no longer fashionable to have a morbid fascination with the man. I met him at the Academy. He wasn’t there for especially long, but he left an impression on me.”

“Enough to want to paint him?”

Sokolov nodded. “Yes, once I heard about his...occupation, the painting came together itself. Though, I found out eventually that I got the color of his coat wrong. A shame.”

Corvo raised a brow, listening intently. He could tell from the tone he was in for one of Sokolov’s stories, and was more curious than usual to hear it.

“I knew Daud was an...intriguing fellow the moment I laid eyes on him. He was a young man at the time. Somewhere in the first half of his twenties, if I’m not mistaken, but he already had that scar,” he said, trailing a pinky down his face, over his eye, his whisky glass in hand. “Not the kind of thing you usually see around the Academy. He was quiet, grim, and brilliant. He was no Jindosh, of course, but he caught on quickly, and was deeply inquisitive. 

“He didn’t have much of an interest in invention or painting, both of which were the fashionable pursuits at the time, thanks in part to myself,” he said, with only a hint of smugness. “Honestly, anyone who wasn’t interested in those pursuits was an intriguing person in my book in those days. There were so many followers with no real appreciation or talent for their studies. But he was different. I admired anyone who seemed to pursue knowledge for its own sake. Out of genuine curiosity.

“He truly stood out when it came to anatomy and alchemy...He understood things with a rapidity that sometimes made _me_ envious. I suspected he could have really become someone with an intellect like his. But he was so... angry.” Sokolov paused, trailing off, his eyes growing distant. Corvo raised a brow, Daud being an angry young man was quite possibly the least surprising revelation he could have presented. Sokolov caught the look and chuckled.

“Don’t get me wrong, angry twenty-something boys are a dime a dozen. Always so put upon that daddy only gave them half the estate, or that all the women they’ve decided to obsess over rebuked them,” Sokolov said, his tone dripping sarcasm. “Usually once you notice they’re angry you can’t get them to shut up about it. But he was different. I couldn’t figure out what made him tick. I felt like...he was jaded beyond his years. Like the world had broken him already. Yet here he was at the academy.”

A wicked grin broke Sokolov’s face. “Naturally I had to find out his story. The bastard didn’t drink, which is usually the easiest way to get people to spill. But like I said, he was inquisitive. Curious. And I found out that he’d never had white tobacco. And it just so happened at the time, I knew a guy…” Sokolov said with a mischievous glint in his eye. Corvo snorted. He’d heard enough of Sokolov’s stories that he almost saw that coming.

“I managed to convince him to come to a little private soiree. To expand his horizons, and experience something new. It was myself, Daud, and four others I carefully selected for the best chance at providing interesting conversation. One was a rich kid who I suspected Daud would hate, another a clever yet humble young alchemist from a modest background, and the third a gorgeous young lady who, well, quite honestly I invited her purely for my own benefit,” Sokolov chuckled. Corvo shook his head. He also always suspected Sokolov orchestrated strange social situations as fuel for stories. It seemed that suspicion was right on the mark. 

Sokolov leaned back in his chair, casually swirling his drink. “The last one was a useless fop by the name of Aaron Kerday, who has a tendency to fall in love with everyone, who I’d noticed had been drifting after Daud like some sad puppy.” 

Corvo’s eyebrows shot up, he actually recognized the name. Kerday became a fairly renowned poet, Jessamine was especially fond of his work. He tended to write very romantic poems about both men and women.

“Usually the part I would share with the curious is that we had an interesting night smoking and philosophizing, much of which was probably not so deep as we believed. And I woke the next day to find Daud and Aaron curled up on the couch together.”

Corvo’s mouth actually fell open at that. “They _what?_ ”

Sokolov laughed. “You heard me. Sadly it didn’t appear that anything particularly scandalous happened. Really, it looked like they just passed out like that. I suppose the fact that it seemed almost wholesome is in itself surprising, especially given Aaron’s usual proclivities. The poor lad developed something of an infatuation with Daud after that. You know how poets are, give them a tortured soul and it’s like a moth to a flame. I swear at least a half dozen of Aaron’s poems are about Daud, and I doubt the man even knows. At least nothing seemed to come from his infatuation. I gathered Daud ended the lad’s hopes before he could be consumed.”

Corvo couldn’t help but rifle through his memories of Jessamine reading the man’s poetry, wondering what possible ones could be about _Daud…_

Eventually Corvo sipped his whisky and cleared his throat, trying to chase the mental image from his mind, and the flush from his cheeks. “You said that’s the part you usually share...there’s more?” Corvo asked.

Sokolov grunted, a shadow coming over his features. “Yes. Usually the people asking want a tale to delight or frighten, or to assuage their fears. All of that did happen, yes, but that’s not the part of the evening that...haunted me. 

“Even as it grew late, Daud still wasn’t exactly an open book. But the smoking was wearing him down, slowly. Then a few of the others started complaining about their parents, being overbearing or stupid, you know, the usual sorts you’d expect from students. Then one of them asked Daud, something along the lines of, ‘if you’re so sour all the time, I can’t imagine how terrible your parents must be.’ And Daud laughed this quiet, cold laugh.

“He explained he’d never met his father. He said his mother was a spectacular, brilliant woman. Who he had loved. Dearly--now, ever everything he’s done, it’s almost difficult to imagine, a man like him loving his mother—But naturally the others picked up on his use of past-tense, and asked what became of her. He said a man became obsessed with him as a boy; the man was some sort of scholar of Pandyssia, and wanted Daud as an apprentice. Daud declined, and his mother refused to force him to go. So the man simply took him.

“Daud said he managed to escape, but there was something in his eyes when he said it...There was far more to the story. Though the conclusion. I’ll never forget, he said, the man had his mother killed. He found her with her head nearly severed, and teeming with bloodflies.” Sokolov sat back with a shudder, as Corvo listened, brows furrowed, somewhat regretting asking.

“The worst part of it, is it was obviously only the tip of the iceberg. I thought the world had broken him, but that wasn’t it. Or rather, not all of it. There were more stories, more horrors buried in him already. 

“I grew...curious about the man who he claimed kidnapped him, and presumably killed his mother. I did a little digging, and found a man who fit the criteria. Aristocratic, interested in alchemy, and with a fascination with the continent. He had this theory that people from Pandyssia were an entirely distinct species. It would help explain his fascination in someone like Daud…” Sokolov said, leaning forward and lowering his voice, as if all of the things he’d said so far, _this_ was the truly scandalous piece.

“The man was found dead in his house in suspicious circumstances. He had a splintered piece of wood that belonged to a broken bed frame lodged in his neck. There was blood all over the room. But one of the man’s, and I quote, ‘most loyal’ guards insisted he witnessed the man’s death, and it was an accident. His wife believed the guard, even if the city watch and the press were...reluctant to. If it really was him...Daud couldn’t have been more than twelve or thirteen at the time.”

Corvo furrowed his brow, it was a suspicious incident, no question, but a tenuous connection to Daud. “It sounds more like the man’s guard killed him. Why would he cover for Daud?”

“If the guard wanted him dead, he had all the access in the world, why kill him in such a suspicious manner? With a broken piece of wood? Besides, by all accounts, the guard was an upstanding and honorable man. So, as to why he’d cover for him...You’re an honorable man. If your boss had a penchant for kidnapping little boys and you found out one of them fought back, what would you do?”

Corvo set his jaw as he thought it over. He had a point. He also didn’t like the implications of the story. He shook his head, taking another sip of whisky, letting the liquid roll around his palate before swallowing it down. It burned the same way Baz’s spirits all did. It was good, but was suddenly bitter on his tongue.

“I see your point.”

It was remarkable, Sokolov got more out of Daud and his past from a single ill-conceived party than Corvo had in months of living under the same roof as the man. He wondered how much Baz knew. Despite his reputation, the man actually did know how to keep his mouth shut when it mattered. Why was he vaguely jealous that Baz might have already known? Why did he feel guilty for finding out through Sokolov?

Sokolov sighed, shaking his head. “It’s all circumstantial, of course. But...let's just say, I was...disappointed, but not surprised when I found out that he’d become a killer. It made sense if his life has been bathed in blood from such a young age.

“We spoke a few times--commiserated, really--about the frivolity and cruelty of the upper classes. It was nice to have someone else low born to talk to. Though, looking back, I sometimes wondered if I contributed in some way to the path he ended up on. 

“I tried to convince him it was possible to do like I did and weasel your way in. Make yourself valuable enough they’ll want you around. But he wasn’t interested. He argued they shouldn’t exist. That they were drains on the empire. Sucking the life blood from the people and fattening themselves on it like so many bloodflies. 

“Like I said, when I found out he was killing nobles I was disappointed. But not surprised.”

Corvo stared down into his drink with a frown. “If he was such a good student, why’d he leave the Academy?”

Sokolov shrugged. “Not a clue. I left to travel for a time, and he was gone when I got back. Never heard any specific story about why. Though...I always got the feeling he was looking for something, seeking something at the Academy. Maybe he found it. Or couldn’t find it...”

Corvo stared down into his drink, at a loss when they heard the balcony doors softly click open. Corvo almost jumped, luckily Daud was too far away to have overheard. A few moments later the man found his way to the study, leaning on the doorframe, arms folded, brow raised at their silence.

“Daud. Welcome back. How was the...scouting?” Sokolov asked, holding up a glass and the decanter of whisky in a silent offer. Daud shrugged and nodded, to Sokolov’s surprise, though his eyes almost sparkled as he poured. Daud settled in a nearby seat.

“City’s really gone to pieces, hasn’t it?” Daud grumbled, taking his drink, he looked down at the amber liquid almost suspiciously. 

“Indeed it has…I swear the bloodflies get worse every year. Half the city’s given up eating meat entirely to try and curb them. Not the wealthy half, though,” Sokolov said, leaning back in his chair again.

Daud grunted, sipping his whisky, and looking down at it almost skeptically.

“Not to your liking?” Sokolov asked.

“It’s fine, I’m just trying to remember the last time I had actual whisky.”

Corvo smiled. “Wasn’t it on the Fugue?”

Daud snorted, shooting a wry smirk at Corvo. “That shit wasn’t whisky and you know it.”

Corvo chuckled. “Fair.”

He caught Sokolov eyeing them both with a critical gaze, his expression difficult to read, but he smiled when he caught Corvo eyeing him back. 

“Well, gentlemen. I believe it has gotten quite late, and I don’t have the resilience for the night life that I used to,” Sokolov said, heaving himself up from his chair. Though considering it was well into the small hours of the morning, Corvo wouldn’t mind sleeping either.

Daud nodded, tossing back the rest of his whisky as Sokolov scowled at him disapprovingly.

“Daud...that whisky was very expensive…”

Daud leveled an unimpressed stare at him, setting the glass aside as he stood. “Yes, and?”

Sokolov shook his head. “Never mind…”

“Billie said you had places for us to sleep?”

Sokolov sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Yes, I do, come, I’ll give you the grand tour. I have two guest rooms, though only one is properly set up at the moment. I’ll let you two fight over who gets which.”

* * *

Daud stood out on the balcony, a fresh glass of presumably cheaper whisky in one hand, and a newly stolen cigarette in the other. Most of his and Baz’ tobacco had gotten wet not long after the Fugue when their shed sprung a leak. All of it went moldy. Their smugglers were also notorious for up charging tobacco because they could, so it had been months since he had a proper smoke.

He hadn’t missed Dunwall when he left. But after living on the island, he missed the cities in general. Missed the buzz of activity, the people. There was a peace living in the village, but also a solitude. In the big city it was possible to be alone in a crowd. While back on Salvage Isle, it was possible, even probable, to be simply alone. For some reason, maybe after years of hopping from city to city, Daud preferred the former.

Though Karnaca had changed. And not for the better. At least it didn’t quite seem to reach the horrors the others described in Dunwall. Perhaps the wealthy all fled the capitol to come down south. With the duke acting as one of Delilah’s greatest allies, perhaps her paranoia hadn’t stripped the place quite as bare yet. Instead the wealthy were just stripping the place of its life.

He heard a knock on the doorframe, and turned to see Corvo looming there. Daud nodded him in. He thought the man had already turned in for the evening.

“I forgot to ask you how scouting went,” Corvo said, coming to lean on the balcony railing next to him. Daud held out a cigarette for him, but he waved it away. 

“It was enlightening. Found a couple pretty stocked black markets. We’ll probably want to hit those first thing tomorrow night. And I saw where Delilah’s artifact is,” he said, causing Corvo to straighten with alarm.

“You _what?_ I thought this was just some preliminary-” 

Daud held up a hand to stop him. “I didn’t get near it. It has a very powerful aura. If I squint hard enough I can barely glimpse it from here… The place it’s kept is very heavily guarded. It’s a good thing we have weeks to pull this job off. We might need that much time just for reconnaissance. Especially since we have no connections here.”

Corvo nodded, leaning his forearms back on the railing, brows furrowed. Daud sipped his drink, the whisky settling warm in his gut. He couldn’t quite believe he actually missed Baz’s terrible brews over the boring overpriced garbage Sokolov had stocked in his house. He leaned against the railing as the silence stretched on, eyeing Corvo.

“So, you and Sokolov wasting your valuable alone time to gossip about me?” Daud finally broke the silence with a sarcastic smirk. The way they’d fallen silent on his arrival wasn’t subtle.

“Nah, not too much at least,” Corvo said, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in his eye. “He was just letting me in on the time you got seduced by a poet…” Corvo said with a wry smirk, Daud sputtered.

“How did he know about that?” he snapped, nearly spilling his drink.

Corvo’s grin widened. “He didn’t. At least not for sure. But thank you for confirming it.”

Daud gaped at him for a moment, and groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Rookie mistake…” he grumbled, color rising in his face as Corvo wheezed a laugh. 

“You do realize that makes about half the women in the Empire incredibly jealous of you, right?” Corvo teased, as even more blood rushed to Daud’s face. At least it was dark out. 

“It’s not like we had some torrid love affair,” Daud grumbled, grinding the butt of his cigarette out on the railing. “And from what I’ve heard, he’s subsequently had half of the women in the Empire, so there can’t be too many remaining to be jealous.”

Corvo snickered, nodding in agreement. “Still, hard to imagine, you and Aaron Kerday.”

“Don’t know what to tell you, other than that I was young and stupid once.”

“Weren’t we all…” Corvo said, trailing off, almost sounding wistful. He gave Daud a subtle once over and shook his head with a faint smile, eventually pushing himself up off the railing. “Well, I should get to sleep. We can work on planning tomorrow.”

Daud agreed, and bid him goodnight, watching his shadow disappear, not sure what to make of his expression. But void, he hadn’t thought about that damn poet in years. And here he thought Corvo wasn’t a gossip like the other villagers. Turned out he was as bad as any of them. It made Daud smile despite himself. 

As important a time in his life as it was, his memories of the Academy still faded as the years dragged by. Things, of course, stood out here and there. Particularly interesting lessons, strange people, entertaining encounters. Some fond memories, some not, many simply useful.

Though he hadn’t thought about it in ages, his short lived relationship with Aaron tended to come back to him when he least appreciated it. On cold nights when he was alone and isolated from the world.

He was in a sort of self-imposed exile back then. None the less, he wasn’t about to turn down an invitation from Sokolov. The room was dark, lit only by the rapidly dying fire in Sokolov’s hearth. Everyone had slowly retired for the night leaving Aaron and Daud alone. Their dorms were a fair walk through the absolutely frigid cold. And both had smoked so much damn white leaf, who knew how successful they would have been navigating back, so Sokolov generously allowed them to stay in his living room.

“Where did you get this scar?” Aaron had asked as they sat on the couch, trailing his fingers along Daud’s face, a gentle caress that made Daud’s heart skip a beat, and caused a jolt of alarm. He’d never really been touched that way by a man. And he was a little surprised to find it wasn’t unwelcomed.

Aaron was a bit of an idiot sometimes, but the young man was warm hearted, sincere, and handsome. So handsome, in fact, he was extraordinarily popular with the ladies, and a good number of the men. Daud noticed the man’s interest in him the weeks prior, lingering around, trying to engage him in conversation. Daud assumed it was just friendly, albeit idle curiosity about some street tough roaming the halls of the Academy. The idea that someone like him would have any interest in someone like Daud was inconceivable.

“I...got in a fight. As a teenager,” Daud said, while not wholly untrue, it was nowhere close to the full story. The look in Aaron’s eyes as he tilted his head, told him Aaron knew Daud was holding back. His fingers trailed to Daud’s jaw.

“This might be strange to say, but...I like it. And you wear it well. People are so apt to hide their flaws, but they don’t realize it is our imperfections that make us beautiful. Scars fascinate me, remnants of our past pain, forever drawn across our flesh. People think they want perfect, unblemished marble, but it is imperfections that add character and delight to life, and beauty.”

Daud opened his mouth to respond but was at a complete loss for words as the poet stared at him, his dark eyes seeming to pierce into his soul. A faint smile came onto the poet’s face as his thumb trailed to Daud’s bottom lip. He was frozen, his heart racing, his head full of cotton. The white leaf was definitely not helping, but the situation was also just so unexpected, he couldn’t honestly say he would have been particularly clear headed without it. 

He’d been in a relationship with a girl about a year prior. He was quite fond of her, but she ended it over his lack of enthusiasm when it came to bedding her. He enjoyed kissing her, sleeping beside her, and was content enough to get her off with his hands when she wanted, but it wasn’t good enough. She insisted his lack of desire for her was due to a secret desire for men. He didn’t think she was correct, but he hadn’t tried it either. So sometimes he wondered. 

“May I kiss you, Daud?” Aaron had asked softly, leaning forward, as Daud’s head spun.

“I...what…?” Daud managed stupidly, still struggling to process what was happening.

He eased even closer, his voice a whisper, breath warm against Daud’s cheek. “May I kiss you?” 

Well, there was one way to find out if the girl was right. 

“...Sure,” Daud finally managed after a beat, perhaps not the most romantic or intelligent response, but soon Aaron’s warm lips were on his. He tasted like tobacco and whisky and _void_ Daud was not prepared for any of it.

Aaron pulled Daud on top of himself as they kissed, hands roaming. He whispered that Daud was free to do whatever he wanted with him. Though as Daud suspected, the girl was wrong, and he didn’t really want anything more. 

When it became apparent Daud did not immediately want to bend Aaron over the couch, the young man seemed almost astonished, and intrigued. It was a relief, Daud had worried he’d offend the man.... Instead this absurd poet seemed almost delighted by it. Daud had to wonder about him, and his seeming expectation to be used. Not that there was anything strictly wrong with it, but his delight that someone didn’t want to made Daud a little sad.

Daud felt vaguely silly the next day when his head cleared. He wondered how many people he used those lines on. But it didn’t matter, he was still happy to hold the man against his chest, smelling his soft hair. It felt good to hold someone. To be held. It was a luxury he didn’t feel he could have in his life. A sensation he didn’t feel again for years. One he believed he didn’t deserve as he traveled deeper down his dark path. 

Daud finished his whisky and readied for bed. Being reminded of those times settled something of a lonely pit in his stomach. The memory of being close and content with someone drew the memory of Corvo holding him back into his mind. The warm peace that flooded him, and a longing he didn’t dare contemplate. Still couldn’t contemplate.

He crawled under the covers and thumped his head against the pillow with a heavy sigh, trying to chase away all his muddled thoughts. He had more important things to worry about.

* * *

Delilah’s soul, if it could be called that, wasn’t in the duke’s palace anymore. It was being held by one of Delilah’s other close allies, in a slightly smaller, but just as heavily guarded mansion smack in the center of one of the wealthier districts. Even getting to the damn place was a pain. Plenty of the nobles hired guards to watch from the rooftops, hampering what was usually one of the best modes of travel. 

Lighted and automated watchtowers powered by wind and whale oil were also everywhere. So, when Corvo accidentally bumped a stack of loose boards that some jackass had set a container of whale oil on...the resulting explosion brought the attention of at least a dozen guards.

He couldn’t quite believe his own clumsiness, or bad luck. What idiots put tanks of whale oil in such precarious places? Luckily, as they darted through the night, using their powers to get as far away as quickly as possible, no one seemed to spot them.

They blinked to a darkened balcony, well out of sight of the guards. Corvo cautiously peered over the edge, watching the guards run off in entirely the wrong direction. He breathed a sigh of relief, that was, until he heard a gasp behind them. 

Corvo spun, doing something of a double take. The door to the balcony was open, and inside the darkened room stood a woman clad in nothing but a lacy wisp of an undergarment that could almost pass for underwear, and a black corset, which stopped short of her ample breasts. A bed with luxurious looking, red sheets stood behind her, and the room was otherwise impersonal and sparsely furnished. It had to be a brothel. 

She had her terrified, wide eyed stare locked on Daud, unmistakable recognition and horror in her eyes. Corvo scrambled for a sleep dart, she hadn’t screamed yet, but the last thing they needed was to be found _again._ But Daud held up a hand, signaling him to wait.

“I-I recognize you. No. You can’t... Are you here for me? Why? Oh void, I- it, it was that bastard wasn’t it?” the woman stammered out, her voice choked with tears.

“No, I’m not here for that,” Daud said evenly, calmly, perhaps a little bluntly, yet in a way that almost seemed practiced. Then again, this probably wasn’t the first time he’d been in such a situation. Daud approached her slowly, a cautious hand outstretched as she backed away until her legs hit the bed, and she tripped, sitting on it. 

“Well, never had the occasion for two blokes at once, but sounds fun. Just would’ve appreciated you coming in the front door…” she said with a nervous laugh.

Daud smiled, shaking his head. “Not here for that either. We didn’t mean to intrude. But we’re going to need you to stay quiet, alright?” Daud said, reaching into the pouch on his hip. He pulled out a fine gold bracelet Corvo hadn’t even caught him lifting. “Here, hold out your arm,” he said softly, and the woman complied, her hand visibly shaking. He gingerly clasped the bracelet around her wrist. “There. Suits you. That enough to buy your silence?” he asked with a wry smile, folding his arms, his posture relaxed, as the woman’s eyes went round, and she also seemed to relax a little. 

“Yeah. I think so…” she sputtered, holding up her wrist to admire her new jewelry. 

Corvo silently slid into the room, keeping to the darkest shadows. She’d been so focused on Daud she’d barely paid him any mind, hopefully she wouldn’t recognize him if he kept out of the light. Daud was right not just knocking her out, he’d already been recognized; it wouldn’t have solved anything. And already the woman had gone from terrified that she was about to be murdered to calm. Corvo was surprised it had taken so little. Clearly they spoke the same language.

“It would buy you boys that round too,” she said with a flip laugh this time, leaning back on her elbows, drawing Corvo’s attention back to how she was dressed...or how little she was dressed. She was a stunning woman, he caught Daud’s gaze wandering down her form as well. “One way to have my silence. No one’d ever believe that I fucked Daud,” she said with a wink, slowly sliding her knees apart.

“Yeah, you’re probably right there,” Daud said as he reached out a hand, gently catching the woman by the chin, his brows furrowing. He tilted her face up and to the side, seeming to examine her, while she licked her lips and gazed up at him with a half lidded smile. The scene made something irrationally annoyed flare in Corvo’s gut. What was he doing--

“You are gorgeous. If I were in the market I might just take you up on it. Your madam should let you charge more. And screen your Johns better,” he grumbled, as he let go of her chin. Corvo suddenly noticed what he was looking at once he stopped stewing. Even in the dark Corvo could see the angry looking mark across her cheekbone. The woman scowled, self-consciously combing her hair over it.

“Weren’t a John, was my bastard of a husband,” she hissed. Her eyes trailed back down to her bracelet, beginning to fondly toy with it, until an idea seemed to strike her. She looked back up at Daud, fire in her eyes. “Wait, you want to buy my silence? Take this back. How about you make that bastard disappear,” she spat, sitting back up suddenly. She unclasped the bracelet and held it out. 

“Those services cost a bit more than a gold bracelet,” Daud grumbled, folding his arms.

“I’m not payin’ you a bracelet. I’m payin’ you with my silence.”

“You already agreed to the bracelet.”

“I changed my mind.”

“That’s not usually how bartering works,” Daud said, almost sounding bemused. 

“You come bargin’ in on my balcony while I’ve got my goods on display scaring me half to death and think you negotiated a fair deal?” she asked, gesturing to her still very exposed, very voluptuous breasts. Corvo reprimanded himself. He should be able to be an adult and not keep getting distracted...Particularly after so many months living around Nadia. Annoyingly, Daud seemed completely unphased by her, even as she trailed the bracelet across her breasts, in a well practiced teasing way. “I think the real question is, how much is my silence worth to you?”

Daud rocked back on his heels a little, looking her over. “You have gall, I’ll give you that.”

“I’ll throw in a cherry on top,” she said with a wink, running her tongue along her teeth, making it clear what particular “cherry” she had in mind.

“I’m starting to think you just want to take me to bed regardless.” 

She shrugged. “Yeah. Don’t get to fuck many celebrities.”

Corvo had to snort at that. Daud glanced over to his dark corner, a wry smile on his face.

“Well, I guess we’re taking care of some bastard.”

Corvo blinked. “What?”

“The lady drives a hard bargain,” Daud said, turning back to the woman, who hopped to her feet. 

“So you’ll really do it?”

“Assuming he’s in the city…and you don’t care how it’s done,” Daud said. 

“Provided he’s gone and I don’t get blamed”

Daud inclined his head slightly. “Naturally.”

“Then I don’t care a lick how,” the woman blurted, before rattling details on where to find him at any given time. Seemed he was a dock worker, and a drunkard. He insisted she continue whoring even after they wed so they could keep food on the table, and he could keep soaked in liquor. But he simultaneously seemed infuriated by the notion that she had sex with other men and didn’t expressly hate every second of it. The man sounded like a real piece of work. 

The idea that Daud just accepted an assassination job before his very eyes should have put Corvo off. But he was familiar enough with the man at this point, he didn’t believe for a second they were headed off to kill a man as they disappeared into the night. 

“Plenty of ships on the docks that could find themselves with an involuntary stowaway. Make sure we take away any travel permits or identification he has, next port of call they wash into he’ll get arrested on the spot,” Daud said without missing a beat as they arrived at a rooftop. He almost seemed eager to explain himself, before Corvo could question him. 

“Wouldn’t they just turn around as soon as they found him?”

“Depends on what they’re hauling. Need to make sure he’s on a ship with something perishable, so they won’t want to disrupt their timeline. Saw an apothecary that probably has what I’d need to whip up some extra potent sleeping drugs that’d have him out for a couple days. Then we just have to hide him well. Almost no chance they’d turn around.”

Corvo thought it over, his brow furrowing. Yes, that was a solid plan to get rid of someone. He blinked at Daud, who raised a brow at the extended silence. “You came up with that damn quickly.”

Daud shrugged, a smirk coming onto his lips. “What can I say? This is an easy one.”

Corvo snorted, there was a glint in Daud’s eye… he was _enjoying_ himself. And he knew it was a damn good plan that he pulled out of his ass within moments of getting the job. Corvo couldn’t help but be impressed. Which was annoying. 

“Moonlight’s burning, so it would probably be fastest if we split up. Think you can scout for a good ship to put him on without knocking over any more tanks of whale oil?” Daud asked, that smug grin widening.

“Taff off. And yeah, no problem. You’ll head to the apothecary then?”

“Yeah. Try to find a ship hauling produce if you can. Meet back here once you have a good option.”

With that, Daud disappeared in a flutter of void, and Corvo set off for the docks. He shouldn’t have been surprised this evening was somehow ending in them kidnapping and shipping off some bastard dock worker. 

The docks weren’t too far off, and it only took a couple ships for Corvo to find the perfect one. It was hauling grapes all the way up to Morely from the looks of it. Expensive, perishable cargo getting ready for a long voyage, where a few days could mean the difference between profit and rot. 

When he got back to their meeting location, Daud was already there, smoking and looking out over the city. He dropped his cigarette on the roof and ground it out with his toe as Corvo approached, though he gave no indication he’d seen him.

“Found something?” he asked, not even bothering to turn. 

“Yeah, I take it you have your drug?”

Daud pulled an upsettingly large syringe out of a pocket, finally turning to Corvo, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. “He’ll be well rested by the time he wakes up.”

With little preamble, they headed off to find the man. Corvo hated to admit it, but creeping around the rooftops with Daud was almost kind of fun. They got lucky, and the man was easy to find. Corvo got to restrain him while Daud injected him; the syringe was a little too large to just sneak up and get him in one go like a usual sleep dart. His eyes went wide with panic and his struggling redoubled when he recognized Daud, Corvo slapping a smothering hand over his mouth to silence him as Daud injected him. As soon as the drug hit him he was out like a light.

“Void, this bastard’s heavy-” Daud hissed, hauling the man up over his shoulder. He wasn’t small, that was for sure. Still, Corvo had to smirk, folding his arms.

“Need me to carry him?” he offered with a smug grin. “If it’s too heavy for you…”

“Fuck off,” Daud wheezed, waving him away, but not without his own smirk. “Now where’s this damn boat you found?”

Corvo nodded, blinking away to a nearby rooftop, Daud close on his heels. They moved quickly, for a while at least, until Daud started trailing, wheezing and winded. Eventually he stopped, not overly gently setting their unconscious quarry on a roof, doubling over, hands braced on his knees.

“Shit...need to catch my breath. How far away is this damn boat?” Daud panted, as Corvo made his way back to him.

“So he _is_ too heavy for you…”

“Oh piss off,” Daud wheezed.

“I don’t mean to wound your pride, but I’m always happy to help someone less capable,” Corvo teased, slapping a hand down on Daud’s shoulder. The man glared at him.

“You’re secretly a smarmy bastard, aren’t you?” Daud muttered. “Fine, carry him. Lugging heavy sacks of shit around is work for the subordinates anyway.”

Corvo sucked in a breath at that. “Oof, are you saying you’re my boss?”

Daud folded his arms, tilting his head, giving him a look he’d probably used on subordinates dozens of times over. A look Corvo had used on his own men from time to time, a look that indicated he thought Corvo was quite possibly the stupidest person alive. “Who’s the one who planned all this?”

“Billie?”

Daud deflated at the answer with a wheezing laugh. “Oh just shut it already and pick him up if you’re going to.”

Corvo swept a low, mocking bow. “Sure thing, _Boss,_ ” he said as he moved to grab the unconscious man. He hefted him over his shoulder with a grunt. “Shit, he _is_ heavy…”

“I told you, I swear the bastard is stuffing lead in his trousers or something,” Daud grumbled.

Fortunately, it was not much further to the dock. They were lightly patrolled, so a few well timed blinks and they were onboard. Corvo kept watch as Daud found a place to hide the man in the cargo hold, which, considering it meant shuffling around heavy crates, was not the quietest process.

“That’s quite enough of a workout for the eve-” Daud hissed as he made his way up from the hold, before Corvo cut him off. He spotted a sailor walking by the porthole, he hadn’t spotted them yet, but he definitely would if they didn’t move and Daud didn’t shut up. 

He snagged Daud around the waist and slapped a hand over his mouth, dragging them backwards into a dark crevice under the ship’s stairs. Daud’s breath was ragged and uneven, startled. Initially Corvo worried the man was going to fight him, but he let himself be pulled along. 

The sailor entered a short moment later. “What idiot left the hold open I swear…” he muttered, strolling past them to shut the door Daud just emerged from. With that taken care of, he started stomping his way up the stairs, muttering to himself.

They both listened intently, perfectly still as they waited for the man to pass. But Corvo couldn’t help but be distracted. Daud was warm against him, more so for all of his exertion. He could feel Daud’s stubble against his palm, sweat trickling from his brow. It took a considerable amount of willpower to not bury his face in the back of Daud’s head and smell his hair. _Void_ it felt good to touch him, be this close to him. 

The door above them clicked shut, and the sailor’s footsteps faded away. Daud slowly raised a hand to the one over his mouth, grabbing Corvo’s wrist and gently pulling it away. “Was covering my mouth really necessary?” he whispered, trying to sound annoyed, but almost sounding a little shaken. 

“You were talking,” Corvo hissed back into his ear. He swore he heard Daud’s breath hitch at that. Corvo couldn’t help himself but take the moment being so close to breathe Daud in. A heady, masculine scent greeted him, that settled a churning desire in his gut. It seemed the charged events of the evening had set his blood on fire, and not for the whore. 

Who was he kidding, she had nothing to do with it. This feeling had been building for a while, smothered by shame and self loathing. But now he was finally free from the island, finally had a purpose again. And it felt good. _This_ felt good. 

After another long moment of silence, listening, Daud quietly cleared his throat.

“We should get out of here.”

“Probably,” Corvo conceded, realizing he still had his arm looped around Daud’s middle, holding them close. He finally let go, and Daud practically sprang away, slipping out the door like a shadow and into the night. Corvo swallowed down a faint and irrational hurt as he followed. 

“Do we need to stop by the brothel, tell her the job’s done?” Corvo asked when he finally caught up to Daud. The man shook his head.

“Her husband not showing up will be proof enough that it’s done. Always best to minimize contact,” he said almost mechanically. Corvo nodded. He frowned as he watched Daud, he seemed fidgety, anxious.

“You okay? Someone spot you?”

Daud did a double take, blinking at him and scowling, shaking his head. “No. It’s just late. Let’s get back.”

With that he disappeared in a flutter of shadow, leaving Corvo frowning. Usually Daud was a good liar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Alternate chapter title: Thursty boys  
> -We finally have some actual flirting yall. or whatever passes as flirting for those two.  
> -Gettin' sum backstory no one asked for, huzza  
> -Also Corvo knocking over a thing of whale oil is in no way inspired by my crippling inability to do a no kill run because everything in Karnaca explodes for no goddamn reason


	7. Karnaca

Corvo sighed loudly. Loudly enough Daud turned from his surveillance, brow raised to stare at him expectantly. He’d been extraordinarily fidgety the last few nights, this one in particular. Sure, surveillance and stakeouts weren’t thrilling, but they were necessary.

“Need something, Your Highness?” Daud asked when he saw Corvo leaning against the wall, staring up at the night sky, not paying the slightest bit of attention to the task at hand.

Corvo leveled an incredulous look on him at the name, but not without the glimmer of a smirk. They’d gotten into something of an absurd title contest since kidnapping the prostitute’s husband. “Bored.”

“I can see that.”

“It’s getting a bit chilly, at least by Serkonos standards,” he complained, folding his arms tightly across his chest.

“A bit,” Daud conceded. It was a clear night, but the wind carried far more chill than it had any right to. Corvo tugged his ratty coat around himself a little tighter, folding his arms. Daud wasn’t exactly well dressed either. Thanks, however, to Corvo showing up on the island with literally nothing but the clothes on his back, his wardrobe suffered a little for it. While the villagers were happy to help him, including getting clothes, Corvo was hesitant to impose, and usually what he did wind up with wasn’t exactly high quality. 

“Are you sure this is all really necessary?” Corvo asked after a pause. 

“Considering what’s at stake? Yes. I’m surprised you don’t seem to agree,” Daud muttered as Corvo heaved himself off the wall and came to stand next to him, leaning against the balcony railing. 

“I’m just not sure what we’re gaining from it.”

Daud frowned. Unfortunately, Lady Aberdine, the holder of Delilah’s soul, had one of the most secure manors Daud ever had the misfortune of trying to crack. They had mapped the exterior and the guard rotations within the first week. It had few entrances, all of which were well guarded, including the servant’s entrance. All entrances had line of sight to a seperate guard post, which would make incapacitating all the guards without raising an alarm quite the task. There were no conveniently mismanaged balconies, and even the highest windows had bars on them; elegant and decorative ones, but iron bars no less. It seemed Delilah wanted to take no chances with unwanted visitors, and took precautions against magically augmented infiltrators. Banks could learn from the level of security on the place. 

“We’ll know it when we see it. Besides, it’s not like we’re in a hurry. It’s better to do it closer to when the boat’s scheduled to get back so we don’t have to hide the goods as long. If Delilah’s goons have magic, there’s a good chance they have some way of tracking it. I think that bone charm will do the trick, but we have no way of knowing for sure.”

Corvo sighed again, slumping. “You’re right.... Still don’t know what we’ll spot from up here,” Corvo said, leaning over the edge of the railing and squinting. 

They weren’t particularly close to the manor, it was true. Daud hoped taking a step back might prove illuminating. Get a better sense of the broader rhythm of the city around the place.

“Hmm...is that?” Corvo muttered, peering across the street. The next thing he knew, Corvo blinked away, reappearing in a slightly lower balcony across the street. Daud quickly followed, appearing next to Corvo as the man cupped his hands on either side of his eyes to peer through the glass door to the dark interior. He checked the street below, peered around at a few windows, then picked up a dead potted plant sitting nearby. He slammed the pot into the glass, shattering it, and casually reached inside to unlatch the door.

When Daud peered inside he discovered what seemed to be the combined back office and storage area for a high end garment shop. Before he could even formulate a guess about what this had to do with their scouting, Corvo strode inside. He walked to a rack full of garments and began rifling through until he pulled out a simple, yet elegant and finely tailored black jacket that seemed about his size, and shrugged it on. 

Daud wheezed a laugh when he realized what was happening. Part of him wanted to be surprised that Corvo just broke into a garment shop to steal clothes, but he knew the rags Corvo had to wear bothered him. 

“Is now really the time for a wardrobe update?” Daud said with a bemused smirk, leaning up against a work table as Corvo pulled the coat back off and tossed it aside, grabbing a new one. 

“Like I said, it’s cold. And our clothes aren’t doing us any favors in this district,” he said, pulling on the new jacket. Daud nodded, that was true enough. They blended well at the docks, but stuck out like sore thumbs in the wealthy district. The rich bastards didn’t even need to recognize them to want to call guards if they were spotted. 

“Looks a bit tight in the shoulders,” Daud said as Corvo tugged on the cuffs of the newest jacket and checked the fit. He grunted in agreement.

“It’s a common problem on premade clothes,” Corvo muttered, pulling out another jacket. This one he held up, eyeing Daud, before tossing it his direction. “You should try this on.”

“Must be just dreadful for you, forced to dress like a peasant,” Daud teased, catching the jacket. It was nice, quality material, soft but sturdy, a dark charcoal gray with nice sharp lines. Corvo had a good eye, apparently. He pulled it on, and was impressed by the fit as well. 

Though Daud had meant the comment as a joke, Corvo seemed to sag. “You’re right, it’s stupid,” he said grimly, slowing in his rummaging. He shook his head, coming to a complete stop. “I came from nothing and ended up father to an empress. I thought...I thought I’d never forget my origins. That living in the luxury of the tower didn’t really mean anything, didn’t change who I was, who I am. The people at court certainly liked to remind me I wasn’t one of them,” he said, almost trailing off, running his fingers along the blue sleeve of a flashy brocade overcoat. 

“But I did forget. I forgot what it was like for every day to be like the last, with no hope of really changing or bettering your position. Of knowing that if you want any kind of luxury at all, it would take years of saving, and in the end you’d probably have to steal it anyway. That if the month was a little worse than usual, you’d probably have to turn to crime for the necessities. 

“Then I found myself without my bed and my favorite tea and nice clothes...suddenly I realize at some point I turned into one of them,” Corvo spat, shaking his head, as Daud raised a brow, a little surprised to hear Corvo admit it, and that he seemed so perturbed by it. But Daud was strangely...glad. 

“I was still a kid when I won that competition. I never really had to live that life. I thought I did, but not really, I was too young. I worked hard to get to where I did, but so did they…” Corvo said, gesturing vaguely towards the dying husk of a city. “I didn’t...I should have done more. I had too narrow minded a focus on doing my job, supporting Emily, knowing my place, holding my tongue. I was complacent. Not all of this is Delilah’s doing.”

Daud furrowed his brow, approaching Corvo slowly. He reached for the rack of clothes, half heartedly looking through them. Corvo was right. He should have done more. But at the same token…

“I know a few things about regrets…” Daud started slowly, as Corvo eyed him. “I used to think there was no use having them. With time, however, I’ve come to accept that you can learn a lot from regret. It’s good to be aware of what you’ve done. What you could have done. And learn from it.

“Though I can’t help but think about how you said I was a product of Dunwall’s streets. I’d contend you were a product of Dunwall’s court. A better position to be in, certainly, but one that still didn’t give you a lot of options. I’m sure there was more you could have done, should have done. There always is. But sometimes there’s only so much a man can do that doesn’t involve walking himself off a cliff. Metaphorically...or literally on occasion.” 

Daud pulled a coat off the rack, holding it up to Corvo for comparison, it seemed the right size. He held it out, but Corvo barely even looked at it. 

“There’s so much more I should have done. I had the power…”

“Did you?”

Corvo scowled at him.

“Did you own any property, have any sort of an estate of your own? In the Attano name? Not the Kaldwins.”

Corvo furrowed his brow. “No…What does that-”

“Did you own any companies? Factories? Some fleet of whaling vessels?”

“Of course not.”

“Did you have any substantial wealth of your own hidden away?”

“I suppose not directly-”

“If you’d been maimed, lost your position as Royal Protector somehow, what would have become of you?”

“Emily would have-”

“Protected you? Taken care of you? Kept you as a pet? But she’s gone now. And you have nothing. There wasn’t even anything for Delilah to steal. You weren’t one of them, you never were one of them. So they made sure you had _nothing_ ,” Daud swept a hand out, gesturing to the city behind them, the wealthy district, brimming with the decadence the garment shop catered to. “How many of those people were Emily’s loyal subjects? Supporters even? You know Delilah didn’t murder all of them, so long as they were happy to switch sides. 

“They don’t give a shit about the coup. They have their wealth to protect them. As long as Delilah lets them stay neck deep in feasts and whores, all while standing on the backs of the commoners, they’ll support her. They’ll stick together in their incestuous little hives and watch the world rot around them.”

Corvo stared at him, seemingly at a loss for words. Daud shrugged, holding the coat out to him again. 

“It doesn’t excuse what you didn’t do. My background sure as hell didn’t excuse what I _did_ do. But now that you’re aware of it? If we get through this and come out alive on the other side, and you have any connections left? You’ll know what you need to do this time,” Daud said, finally thrusting the coat against Corvo’s chest. “Now take the damn coat.”

Corvo grabbed it, still staring at Daud, but nodded after a few beats, trying the garment on. His brows rose as he rolled his shoulders, and checked the sleeves. “Not bad...fits pretty well.”

Daud grunted and reached out, carefully fixing the unruly collar, his fingers trailing along the soft fabric before giving Corvo a critical once over. “It suits you.”

“After that rant, I’m not sure if that’s a compliment,” Corvo said with a wry smile. Daud wheezed a laugh, taking a step back. 

“You were right, we stand out too much in these clothes,” Daud said, a smirk of his own spreading across his lips. “Besides, nothing wrong with a little ill-gotten luxury…”

“I think by definition there _is_ something wrong with anything ill-gotten,” Corvo pointed out.

“Oh just shut up and take the compliment,” Daud barked. There it was again, that smile. The one he’d rarely seen on the island. The one that made his dark eyes sparkle with life. The one he’d been seeing so frequently lately, now that he had a purpose. The one Daud was so damn glad to see. 

The two went back to searching through garments. Trying things on, tossing items that might fit one or the other better back and forth, thoroughly trashing the place in the process. 

They eventually headed downstairs to find more clothes, and empty the till. They spent so long rummaging and trying things on, they had to beat a hasty escape with their new wardrobes when a guard finally arrived to investigate. They weren’t being particularly subtle. They were having too much fun for caution. 

Escaping through the night with armfuls of stolen clothes was a little awkward, but their actions didn’t exactly set the city on high alert, so they took their time. They paused, perched precariously on a ventilation system, as they heard footsteps approaching. They held still, spotting a pair of wealthy women strolling down the street, flanked by an escort of bored looking guards. 

“Didn’t you get your invitation?” one woman asked, her haughty voice sounding self-delighted and smug.

“No. What invitation?” a significantly less haughty, and borderline annoyed voice answered.

“To Lady Aberdine’s masquerade ball! It’s only the event of the season! I heard Lady Orimire has twelve seamstresses working on embroidering and beading her dress to make sure it’s ready for the event. The planned feast is so large they’ve had to hire half the cooks in the city. And they’ll have a full orchestra, and dancing! You can’t possibly miss it!”

“Well if I wasn't _invited_ I can’t imagine I have much say in if I miss it...”

“My goodness. Surely it was a mistake,” the voice said, trying to sound distraught and failing, as they disappeared down a side street. 

“Corvo,” Daud hissed, edging closer to him. Corvo raised a silent brow in response. “You were wondering what we were looking for with these stakeouts? We just found it.”

* * *

Daud hated to admit it, but Corvo looked fantastic in his masquerade outfit. They were both dressed closer to the garish side for Daud’s tastes, but it was a necessary evil given the mission. The clothes fit Corvo perfectly--anonymous tailoring orders were fortunately common for these events. It highlighted his broad shoulders, straight posture and powerful chest. His heavy silk dinner jacket was done in a fine black on black brocade that gave the impression of feathers, to go with his half bird half mask. Going with a crow seemed a little on the nose, but the theme of the ball was animals.

Corvo cut such an imposing figure despite being draped in silk, Daud almost worried he’d stand out among the frail nobles. But if anyone asked, they were posing as up and coming whaling moguls. In that industry, such a frame probably wouldn’t raise too many eyebrows. Daud also didn’t like that half masks were the trend now, but the nobles liked to make it easier to eat and drink, and the last thing they wanted to do was stand out, even if he felt marginally more exposed.

Sokolov had no trouble obtaining authentic invitations, so getting inside was easy, which would help them go unnoticed; as long as Corvo didn’t actually sign his name in the guest book. It seemed this wasn’t the first masquerade the man had infiltrated. Daud threatened to personally slap the shit out of him if he did sign it. But _void_ it was tempting after the man brought it up. 

To Daud’s dismay, eyes landed on them as soon as they made their way past the front gates. The eyes however didn’t belong to the guards, but instead a pair of finely dressed women lingering in the gardens. Once the guard waved them in, a woman who wore a white bird mask approached, her gown adorned with actual feathers that fluttered around her as she moved. 

“Well, well, who do we have here?” the woman crooned as she strode up to them. She extended a silk gloved hand, palm down, displaying a tremendous sapphire ring on her middle finger. Corvo took her hand politely, half bowing and raising it to his lips. 

“I thought that was the fun of masquerades, not knowing who’s who,” Corvo crooned back while Daud struggled not to look annoyed. Absurd nobles and their tedious posturing. 

“Indeed it is. But believe me, if we’d met before, I’d recognize someone like you even with a mask,” she said with a smile, her eyes subtly trailing down his form. 

“We must be from out of town then,” Corvo said casually, almost playfully. For someone who claimed to be bad with words, he was doing a damn fine job being a fake wealthy socialite. Though Daud supposed the man had enough practice dealing with their kind. 

“Well then, stranger, you must let me be your first dance,” she said, looping her arm in Corvo’s without so much as asking, prattling on flirtatiously, trying to guess his accent and other details as they walked to the main hall. Daud didn’t like drawing attention so early, but he couldn’t sense the void on the woman, probably not one of Delilah’s witches. And the way her eyes wandered made her intentions fairly clear.

The woman’s friend strode up to Daud, hooking her arm in his as the two found themselves trailing behind.

“Isn’t she positively nauseating?” she asked coolly, causing Daud to snort despite himself. She turned to him with a conspiratorial grin visible under her moth mask, her bushy antennae nearly brushing against his own wolfhound mask. 

“Hmm, how many chickens do you think died to make that dress?” Daud mused, as the moth giggled.

“Quite a few. A number of geese as well I believe…”

Daud and his new moth companion made small talk as Corvo got press ganged into dancing. The young woman on Daud’s arm at least didn’t seem interested in dancing at the moment. She also enjoyed Daud rebuffing her attempts to learn more about his occupation by assuring her it was “quite boring.” She appreciated a man who could admit the truth instead of prattling on to impress.

“I really feel for your friend. He’s doomed, coming dressed as a raven, he’s going to end up stuck with that pigeon on his arm all night…I’m sure she’s infatuated with how they look together.”

“It looks like it. Say, I don’t suppose you know where to find some air? Other than the front gardens…” Daud asked casually, causing the woman to scowl at him.

“Excuse me? I don’t know what kind of woman you think I am-”

“No, no, nothing like that. I just wanted to smoke…” Daud hastily corrected her, pulling a freshly stolen silver cigarette case from his pocket. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I’m more than old enough to be your father.”

The moth laughed, taking him by the arm again, leading him away. “You really must be from out of town. Since when has that ever stopped a dirty old man?”

The woman led him to a balcony overlooking yet more gardens. Daud started a little when he saw a marble statue of Delilah standing a little too close for comfort, but still blessedly far enough away. His companion noticed, chuckling faintly. “What, don’t like seeing our new Empress everywhere?”

Daud cleared his throat, lighting a cigarette and offering another to the moth. She took it with a wry smile. 

“Just find those things a little creepy.”

“Aren’t they? You know, I swear I saw one move once…” she said, lowering her voice.

Daud scowled. He had far too much experience with the damn things moving. And screaming. He made sure to warn Corvo about it before they approached the grounds. “I wouldn’t be surprised…”

“A little hard to believe our Empress is a witch. We live in interesting times.”

Daud chuckled darkly, taking a drag from his cigarette. “Yes. Interesting.”

Daud was happy to use his excuse of being from out of town to pump his new acquaintance for information about the grounds, and Lady Aberdine herself. His self-appointed hostess was even kind enough to give him the grand tour, including pointing out Lady Aberdine herself. She was hard to miss, dressed in a resplendent, glistening peacock outfit. He made sure to keep a wide berth. He hadn’t noticed anyone yet who seemed like Delilah’s witch, but if anyone, it would be Lady Aberdine. Fortunately, she was so busy with sycophants she was easy to avoid.

Another guest covered in sycophants was Sokolov. Naturally, the man also managed to get himself invited while poking around getting Daud and Corvo invitations and costumes. Given their connections, it was vital that Daud and Corvo avoid him.

It seemed everyone of note in Karnaca was there. There were so many people packed into the place it was easy to disappear into the crowd. The dance floor was particularly popular, filled to the brim with bodies in motion. Apparently Lady Aberdine was fond of dancing, and made sure her guests were as well.

Daud got more information out of the moth in a few minutes than he and Corvo did in weeks of surveillance, including hearing about a special locked back chamber that was allegedly used for orgies. He could see the aura of their target in the room’s vicinity, so at least he could be assured there would be no guests around it...unless they really did hold orgies in there.

He took careful note of every guard, every hallway and locked door as they strolled through the manor, mapping their best routes for ingress and egress. It wouldn’t be easy, even disguised as they were, but Daud still spotted a few good ways to use their magic to slip by.

Once they made their way back to the ballroom floor, Daud and his new found companion finally parted company, though she made him promise he would save a dance for her later. As she disappeared into the crowd, Corvo appeared almost as soon as the song ended.

“Save me,” Corvo hissed urgently, as Daud choked back a laugh.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“I don’t know, think of something! I can’t get away from her.”

“Just tell her to leave you alone?”

“If I tell her to go away I’m pretty sure she’s going to make a scene,” Corvo sighed. The last thing they wanted was to draw attention to themselves.

“You’re the one who’s actually attended these things,” Daud pointed out, Corvo huffed.

“As a _bodyguard_ not as a _guest_.”

“Well, the good news is, I think I’ve found a way in,” Daud said, his voice low, hopefully drown out by the music and conversation for anyone but Corvo.

Corvo stared at him, his surprise evident despite the mask. “What? How?”

“While you were off dancing the night away, I was getting the grand tour. The bad news is there’s a slight possibility I’m wrong and it really is just an orgy room…”

“A _what?_ ”

“There you are my dear! I turn my back for a second and I swear it’s like you vanished!” a certain pigeon squawked, appearing behind Corvo. The man bristled, but forced a smile onto his lips as he turned stiffly to face her again. 

“I just spotted my friend here-”

“Come now, I just adore this song, we must dance.”

“Excuse me, ma’am, but I can’t have you just monopolizing all of my friend’s time,” Daud said, stepping forward. 

She narrowed her eyes at him, giving Daud a critical once over like it was the first time she’d seen him all evening. “Who made your outfit, that mask is absolutely dreadful,” she scoffed. Daud folded his arms, rocking back on his heels. 

“Same tailors as my dear friend here. And at least I’m not molting like a lice riddled chicken.”

The woman gasped. “How dare-”

“Please excuse my friend, he can be a little rough around the edges sometimes,” Corvo said suddenly, literally stepping between the woman and Daud. “He’s just grumpy because I promised him a dance and have been ignoring him. So if you will excuse us.” Corvo snagged Daud’s wrist, and essentially dragged him onto the dance floor, allowing them to disappear into the sea of swirling bodies. 

“What- why-” Daud sputtered as he found himself dragged in front of Corvo, one of the man’s hands coming to rest at his side, the other grasping Daud’s hand.

“Sorry, I don’t know, I had to think of something before you caused a scene,” Corvo hissed, as Daud tried to figure out what to do. “Do you know how to dance?” Corvo asked, going from annoyed to bemused in an instant.

“Of course I do, just...not sure how it works with two men, who leads?” 

“Generally the taller one. So me.”

“We’re the same height,” Daud grumbled, giving in and resting his hand on Corvo’s shoulder. Corvo just responded with a smirk and a skeptical noise as Daud rolled his eyes. 

It took Daud more than a couple beats to catch his footing. It was a simple waltz, but it had been decades since Daud stepped foot on any sort of dance floor. And he wasn’t sure he’d ever been in the following role. But soon enough he fell in step. 

Daud checked around them, after finding everyone thoroughly absorbed with themselves, he took the opportunity to start filling Corvo in on everything he’d scouted. He stumbled over his words a little as Corvo’s hand slid around his back, drawing him in closer. The song was still fairly up-tempo, but there was something about the way Corvo moved, guiding him in time with the music...he quickly shook the thought away. They were on a mission, being closer would prevent anyone overhearing. Though it didn’t stop his heart from fluttering.

The tempo slowed as the orchestra started the next song, and Daud expected Corvo to lead them off the dance floor. They’d gone over all the information Daud had, there was no reason to stay, but Corvo’s feet simply slowed with the music. Why wasn’t he leaving? They had things to do. And more importantly, why did Daud find himself simply following?

His lifestyle hadn’t really afforded him the opportunity to take an interest in anyone for a very long time. Though it’s not as if that airheaded poet was the last. But why now? Why Corvo? When did the unpleasant stirring in his stomach knowing that he owed this man his life turn into butterflies? 

Daud’s mouth ran dry as Corvo leaned in, nearly speaking into his ear. “We should wait a while before we make our move. Might get too much attention having the two out of towners disappear after barely arriving.” 

The smell of Corvo’s cologne overtook Daud as he spoke. Like pine and sandalwood and something dark and intoxicating. He had to wonder if he’d borrowed it from Sokolov or sought it out on his own. It took a few beats for Daud to force his wandering mind to actually register Corvo’s words and respond. “The longer we wait, the longer we risk being compromised. We don’t know if Delilah’s witches can sense us. And I saw one of her statutes in the garden.”

“Have you spotted any witches?”

“Other than possibly Lady Aberdine? Not that I could tell.”

Corvo nodded. “I don't think there's much risk of being found out. Delilah herself couldn’t tell I was marked until I used it. Let everyone get a little drunker. And if Rover is guarding a key point, we might want to see if we can wait out a shift change.”

During the weeks of surveillance, they’d started recognizing most of the guards, and knew a few of their names...and named a few. They may not have ascertained Rover’s real name, but they did know the man was slavering for a promotion and took his job _far_ too seriously. Any suspicious activity of any kind and he would start barking up a storm. Usually he’d rather have a tired guard than a fresh one, but in this case Corvo had a point.

“Fine, then, we wait a while,” Daud conceded. Corvo straightened with a nod. They ironed out a few more details of their plan until there was nothing left, and again he expected Corvo to lead them off the dance floor, but he didn’t. As they waltzed, Daud noticed a stray white feather stuck to Corvo’s jacket. He flicked it away with a faint chuckle. “Though the longer we stick around, the more time you’ll have a white pigeon dogging your every move.”

Corvo grunted in resignation. “Hopefully she’ll get the point sooner or later.”

“Not so sure about that, just caught a glimpse of her… I’m pretty sure she’s trying to see if you can kill someone with a glare. Guess we know she’s not a witch. I don’t even feel a tingle.”

Corvo chuckled, there was that smile again. “You _did_ call her a lice riddled chicken.”

“I did no such thing. I just likened her dress to one.”

Conversation faded, but the song continued. After a time Daud realized how stiff he was, and allowed himself to relax. He hated everything about this ball. The decadence, the people, the overpriced costumes. The musicians were fine, though he hated what they represented. But dancing with Corvo, anonymous in a sea of strangers...He almost didn’t want the song to end.

They probably didn’t make the most elegant of dance partners. Daud was too unfamiliar with his roll, but it still felt good to move with him. It felt like sometimes when they sparred, locked move for move, anticipating what the other would do next in a kind of beautiful synchronicity, even if they were both trying to get the upper hand. Though Daud couldn’t shake the feeling that in a way, they really were sparring. And, as per usual, Corvo was winning.

Eventually, the song ended, and this time they parted, leaving the dance floor. The pigeon predictably swooped in, demanding Corvo’s attention, eagerly offering to introduce him to her friends, and shouldering Daud out so aggressively he was half expecting the woman to start throwing elbows. 

On his own again, Daud wandered to a balcony to clear his head. He should keep focused on the mission, but he couldn’t help but feel distracted. He told himself he’d check the balcony to scout escape routes. Maybe the fresh air would also help clear the feeling of Corvo’s hands from his body, or the scent of his cologne from his nose.

Surprisingly, the balcony was empty. Daud strode to the edge and peered over, spotting nothing but shrubs, flowers, and what may have been a couple engaged in something untoward in the shadows. Though a few moments later the quiet was disrupted by someone joining him. A nobleman in a green outfit. His mask was missing, his hair a sweaty tousled mess, no doubt thanks to the now absent mask. His face was flush and he moved like someone who’d partaken of the open bar a little too generously. 

He beamed up at Daud, who stared back, brow raised behind his mask.

“Ohh, I hope you two are able to pull it off,” the man blurted with a bright grin, causing Daud to do a double take. 

“I beg your pardon?” he said, trying to keep from sounding quite as alarmed as he felt.

“You don’t need to worry. I’m discreet,” he said, raising his wine glass in a nearly sloshed conspiratorial toast with a wink.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Pishposh,” the man snorted, “I saw the way you two looked at each other.”

That caused Daud to do another, entirely new double take. “ _What?_ ” he hissed.

“I know how it is, the pressure to find some woman to settle down with and squirt some kids into. ‘Oh, who will carry on the family name?’ Who gives a toss about the family name if you can have _love,_ ” the man said wistfully, gesturing widely, and falling into Daud’s chest, nearly spilling his wine on him. Daud caught him with a weak laugh, guiding him back to his feet. 

“Right…”

“I hope you manage to stay together. The common folk get to do it all the time...high society can be so... _silly._ ”

Daud grunted, biting back a smirk. “Yes, it can.”

Naturally, the young man started dumping his romantic problems on Daud, pointing out the object of his affection who was, in fact, quite handsome. Or at least as far as Daud could tell, given the mask. 

Giving a drunk fop life advice about maybe not trying to date men who clearly weren’t worth the effort wasn’t really how Daud expected the evening to go. But he did end up wasting enough time that he noticed some guards moving through the building. Eventually he managed to peel himself away from his latest compatriot to go check. Indeed, Rover was off duty, replaced by an already bored looking guard.

He made his way back to the main hall, looking for Corvo. Before he could spot him, however, the moth appeared at his side, smiling up at him.

“I believe you promised me a dance?” she said. 

Daud glanced around, still not spotting his crow in the mass of pompous overstuffed nobles, and nodded. “Very well,” he extended his hand to the woman, who took it. There was something distinctly flirtatious glinting in her eye, and the way she tucked herself close to him as they moved to the dancefloor.

This night was proving to be exceedingly strange.

“Enjoying your evening?” she asked as she delicately placed her hand on his shoulder, her steps confident as she followed his. Naturally she had much more experience with this nonsense.

“Indeed. Though, I don’t suppose you’ve seen my friend lately? I was looking for him.”

She nodded, bushy antenna bobbing. “I believe he was still being harassed by _my_ friend.”

“ _Still?_ ” 

She chuckled. “She’s dreadfully fearful of turning into a spinster. A handsome successful businessman from out of town is exactly her type.”

“Has she ever heard of playing hard to get?” Daud asked sarcastically.

“Yes, but your suitor has to be interested first,” she said with a light laugh. “I heard you called her a flea laden pigeon.”

“I may have likened her dress to a lice riddled chicken.”

The moth chuckled, an added bounce to her step as they meandered through the dancers. “I like you. You must tell me your name.”

“In due time.”

The young woman scoffed, throwing her head back. “No wonder you’re a proponent of playing hard to get. I guess you’ve mastered it.”

Eventually as they danced, Daud spotted Corvo, looking about as annoyed as a person could while holding an exceedingly small finger sandwich. The moth decided they should both go and try to rescue his companion, promising to play interference distracting the pigeon. 

They disappeared into the party together, taking winding routes to various stops, hoping to lose sight of anyone who might be interested, before silently making their way to the back hallway with the room. The door stood down a narrow hallway, with a single guard at its entrance.

“No guests back here. And no there’s no secret orgy...why’s everyone think there’s an orgy…” the guard muttered as he spotted them. 

Corvo held up a hand for Daud to wait, checked their surroundings one more time, then disappeared in a smudge of black smoke. The guard’s eyes widened with surprise, then he suddenly straightened and looked around briefly. He looked to Daud and nodded him forward. 

Daud slipped past the possessed guard and quickly crouched next to the door. He pulled a lockpick set from his boot and got to work. They couldn’t smuggle in most of their usual gear, but at least lockpicks were small. He was still working on the lock when the guard approached. Moments later, it was as if a shadow peeled from his back, and suddenly Corvo was there behind him, catching him and choking him out. 

Daud felt the lock click, and he pushed the door open. Corvo jerked his head into the room, signaling Daud to follow as he dragged the unconscious man inside. 

They slid into the room, closing the door behind them, and froze. The space was devoid of life, at least. It was a surprisingly large, open room, with a towering statute of Delilah in the center, one hand outstretched, holding a small wooden box. Daud didn’t have to use his void gaze to see reality twitching and distorting around the box. That had to be their target. 

Ringing the statute on the floor were pressure plates. So many, in fact, Daud couldn’t determine a way to reach the box, even with magic, without stepping on one. And along the walls stood a half dozen clockwork soldiers. They were idle, and blessedly did not react to their entry, but Daud didn’t doubt they’d come to life the second a plate was triggered. Worst of all, there was a metal security gate tucked up above the door, no doubt set to come down and trap any would be burglars.

“Shit, there must be a deactivation switch hidden somewhere else,” Corvo hissed. Daud nodded. Everything was going so well so far, poking around blindly for a switch that was definitely off limits to guests and could be anywhere put them at enormous risk. Not to mention there was no way to deactivate Delilah’s statute, assuming it was magical like the rest of her damn effigies seemed to be. 

“Well, looks like this just turned into a smash and grab,” Daud murmured. Corvo nodded and started to stride forward, but Daud grabbed his arm, holding him back. 

“Open the door and wait in the hall.”

“What? No, you could get trapped in there with them, I’m not-”

“Leave the door open, and give me some credit, would you?” Daud said with a smirk, giving Corvo a gentle shove. The man raised a skeptical brow, but did as ordered, glancing down the hall. 

Daud took a steadying breath as he eyed the distance to the box, edging as close to the door as he could. Either this would work flawlessly, and it would just be a matter of slipping out while trying not to draw attention to their ill gotten package, or all hell was about to break loose. He strongly suspected the latter. 

With a flex of his fingers, time came grinding to a halt, the distant music replaced by the whispers of the void, color draining from the world. Without missing a beat, he twitched his wrist, feeling the weight of the box as he yanked it from the statue's grip. He stepped back out the door as the box sailed through the air to him.

The statue's expression became a snarl as it turned to him, despite time still firmly being locked in place for the rest of the world.

 _“You, I knew you were still alive. But I didn’t realize you were still a FOOL,”_ Delilah’s voice screeched. Daud’s stomach lurched as suddenly time resumed. Alarms started chiming throughout the manor, and he saw the clockwork soldiers start spinning to life. The security door also slammed down so suddenly he felt the breeze as it narrowly missed striking him. Corvo grabbed him, yanking him out of the way of the door on reflex, swearing. 

“Run,” Daud barked. The music from the ballroom had come to a sudden disjointed halt as the alarms blared, startled and fearful cries coming from the guests as they heard slams and crashes of security shutters all over the manor. It seemed that was not the only room with an emergency lockdown.

They tore down the hall towards the nearest balcony Daud had scouted earlier, the box tucked safely under his arm. The wooden doors were closed tight, and a guard slid into their path as they approached. The guard barked at them to halt, drawing her sword. 

“Get her out of the way,” Corvo growled as they ran. Without missing a beat, Daud raised his free hand and pulled. The guard suddenly levitating, held in his grip. With another rough yank of Daud’s arm, the guard yelped helplessly as he sent her hurtling through the air, sword clattering uselessly to the ground as she tumbled behind them. 

Corvo raised his hand with a jerk, and a familiar burst of air erupted forth, slamming into the doors with enough force to blow them open. As they made it to the balcony, a twist of smoke appeared in their path, and Lady Aberdine emerged from it, shrieking with rage. She lunged for the box, trying to wrench it out of Daud’s grip. 

“You will not steal from my mistress!” she screeched, as Daud wrestled her for the box, surprised at her strength. Meanwhile Corvo grabbed her from behind, wrapping his arms around her neck, choking her and trying to pull her off. She gagged and swore, raising her hand and flinging a volley of what seemed to be sharp cinders wildly at Daud. He managed to dodge the projectiles, but one of her own guards, and an unfortunate guest weren’t as lucky. The two cried out in pain as they were struck, the smell of burnt flesh rising shortly after. 

Daud pulled the box out of Lady Aberdine’s grasp as she struggled against Corvo, and blinked away to the gardens, and over the fence. Moments later Corvo followed, leaving Lady Aberdine in a crumpled pile of her voluminous peacock skirts, coughing and gasping, but still unfortunately conscious, as guards swarmed the balcony. 

They heard gunshots ring out at their backs as they disappeared into the night, all missing wildly. They sprinted and transversed their way to a stash they’d left themselves before the party. Daud stuffed the box into a bag containing the bone charm he’d stolen from the pirates. It seemed to dampen all void energy in its radius, and Daud noticed it seemed to mask the presence of other bone charms from his sight. It was the best bet he could think of for hiding Delilah’s soul. 

They hurriedly tore off their masks and clothes, jumping into the much less conspicuous upper middle class garments they had tucked away with the bone charm and bag. By the time Daud pulled on his new coat, they heard the city loudspeakers crackle to life, announcing a man hunt. 

“This could have gone better,” Corvo grumbled.

“Could have gone worse,” Daud pointed out, Corvo reluctantly agreed. 

They started out through the city, sticking to balconies and rooftops as best they could, as fast as they could, favoring speed over stealth for the time being, though still striving to remain hidden. The more distance they could put between themselves and Lady Aberdine’s manor, the better. Though it wouldn’t help them much if guards knew what direction they were heading, so they changed direction a few times.

As they hit the Red Light District, Duad could feel his fatigue growing. The bone charm might help them conceal the box, but it was also a drain. 

Corvo took a reckless leap from one roof to another, with Daud quickly on his heels. Then to Daud’s dismay, as they blinked to a particularly shoddy building, he didn’t make it as far as Corvo did. He felt a distinct crack under his feet as the eave gave way, and Daud tumbled down with it.

He hit the edge of the roof, and scrambled for a hold, but was unable to find purchase among the slanted shingles. He reached out to the void to translocate back up, but the bag looped around his shoulder and the bone charm seemed to swallow the last vestiges of his already exhausted powers.

This wasn’t the first time Daud found himself falling from a significant height, and probably wasn’t going to be the last. He’d learned how to fall, roll, absorb the impact as best as was possible, but he knew this one was going to hurt. 

A sharp pain jolted through his leg as he hit the ground and rolled, tumbling a good distance, hissing in pain on the cold cobblestones, he was going to have a good number of bruises and scrapes from that. Once he finally came to a stop, he lay on the ground for a moment as he took a quick inventory of his body. His ankle hurt like a bitch, but he hadn’t felt any snaps. Hopefully it was just a sprain. His knee hurt as well, but he could bend it just fine, so no serious damage there. 

He heard the faint whisper of Corvo blinking beside him. The man reached for him, looking frazzled.

“Shit, you okay?”

Daud nodded, slowly moving to sit up, Corvo eagerly reaching out to help him. “Yeah. Nothing serious,” he grumbled. “We have to keep moving, just need a second to catch my breath. Might be your turn to carry the bag though,” he added with a halfhearted smile as Corvo nodded and helped him to his feet. 

Pain shot through Daud’s ankle as he put weight on it, causing him to stumble into Corvo with a grunt. Corvo wrapped an arm around him, practically holding him up. 

“You are hurt.”

“It’s just a sprain I’ll be fine,” Daud spat. 

Corvo hummed, sounding skeptical, but helped take the bag from Daud, looping it over his shoulder instead. He grimaced as he felt the effects of the charm. Though before they could say anything else, Corvo’s head shot up, and he glanced down the street with a quiet curse. He hurriedly helped shuffled Daud off to the side of the street, under the awning of a shop as he tossed the bag behind some nearby shrubs. 

Daud sucked in a breath as Corvo’s hand came up to cup the side of his face, finding himself pinned to a wall, so close he could feel the man’s warm breath on his face, across his lips. They were both still winded from their flight, and Daud’s head was spinning. They were so close, Corvo was so warm--what was he doing? Then he heard it, footsteps approaching. That’s when he suddenly realized Corvo’s hand was covering his scar.

The loud speaker blared, announcing the man hunt again, describing two men dressed in clothes they were no longer wearing, carrying a box, fleeing the vicinity of Aberdine Manor. 

“Yeah, yeah, we heard you the first time,” a voice complained as the loud speaker finished its message. 

“Do they really think they could have made it this far out already?”

“Don’t know. Pretty sure all the speakers are just on the same system. Probably getting the same message at the docks.”

“If I was some fisherman being woken up this time of night by this shit I’d be pissed…”

As the men drew closer, Daud could hear the clatter and jingle of their gear. Guards. 

“Act natural,” Corvo murmured. Daud had to silently object to the wording a little. There was nothing _natural_ about this, but he understood the message. They were, after all, in the Red Light District; the scene Corvo was trying to portray was perfectly natural here. Daud realized his hands were awkwardly braced against the wall from his sudden limping shuffle, which didn’t fit his roll. He slid an arm around Corvo’s waist, the man drawing flush against him. Daud’s head tilted almost involuntarily as he breathed him in, the scent of his cologne once again invading his senses. 

His eyes drifted over Corvo’s shoulder, trying to spot the guards. He threaded his other hand up to the man’s hair, gently grabbing and pulling, tilting his head out of the way so he could see. He almost felt more than he heard Corvo suck in a breath. 

“They’ve spotted us,” Daud said, his voice barely even a whisper. 

“Then stop looking,” Corvo murmured, closing what little distance there was left between them. The next thing he knew, Corvo’s lips pressed against his. Daud stifled a gasp. Corvo’s lips were warm, and his beard surprisingly soft against his face. Daud found himself leaning into the kiss despite himself, his eyes sliding shut and lips gently parting. Corvo responded in kind, his lips trailing along Daud’s. 

Daud’s head swam, his pulse racing, his heart pounding in his ears. What was he doing? What was he thinking? He needed to keep a beat on those guards. Needed to stay grounded and not focus on Corvo’s firm body pressed against him, his lips, his soft hair between his fingers.

“Hey, you blokes see any suspicious figures ‘round here?” one of the guards called, sounding amused. 

Corvo pulled back, barely looking over his shoulder, keeping his face concealed. “A little busy,” he barked, eliciting a laugh from the guard. 

“That reminds me, how’s things going with what’s her name. Tiffy?” his voice said, quieter now, talking to his companion.

“Tiffany, and it’s none of your business. Sod off…”

The two stared at each other in tense silence as the voices faded into the distance. Corvo licked his lips, his eyes flickering to Daud’s lips before he ventured a glance over his shoulder, confirming the men were gone. Daud reached out, pulling the discarded bag to them through the air, handing it to Corvo as he felt the drain, and his ankle throbbed. He nodded up towards a nearby balcony, and they both blinked up to it. 

The building had old faded quarantine signs, and when Corvo pushed the door open, they were thankfully not greeted by the buzz of angry bloodflies. The bedroom they entered was at least clear. Daud hobbled to the unmade bed, sitting heavily with a pained grunt. The place was dusty, stale, and silent. Corvo slipped to the door, peering around.

“Nest in the hall’s dead. Don’t really hear any others around,” Corvo said, sliding the door back shut and dropping the bag on the floor. “Should get your boot off, take a look at the damage…”

“If I take my boot off, I might not be able to get the damn thing back on,” Daud said, wincing as he tried to move his foot. 

“If it swells up too bad, you might not be able to get the damn thing _off_ ,” Corvo countered. Daud glared.

“We have to keep moving. I just need a breather.”

“It’s too risky for you to move like this. And they won’t find us here, we’ve lost them.”

“For now.”

“No matter how far away we got, it would always be ‘for now,’” Corvo pointed out kneeling next to the bed. “It’s this one, right?” he asked, gesturing to Daud’s foot. He nodded reluctantly. Corvo was probably right, he’d have a hard time moving quickly like this, which increased their chances of being spotted. It was probably better to hunker down for the time being.

Corvo unlaced his boot, and slowly started easing it off, while Daud tried not to swear too loudly. His ankle already looked red and bruised, and was painful to touch, probably not a great sign. But he could still move it, albeit painfully.

“Of all the times to fall like some kind of amateur,” Daud hissed.

“Your landing broke, not much you could do about that. And void, from that height, I’m amazed you don’t have two broken legs.”

Corvo ventured out of the room and returned after finding a dusty cheap roll of gauze in the bathroom. He used the gause to help wrap Daud’s ankle. There wasn’t quite enough of it, but it was better than nothing. Daud found himself bristling at the man’s advice almost involuntarily; he was used to being the one doling out medical instructions. But with as much combat training as Corvo had, of course he knew about sprains.

Eventually they found themselves sitting in silence, Daud’s foot awkwardly propped up under some pillows, with Corvo seated on the edge of the bed next to him. Daud studied him silently, his head a muddled mess, the pain in his ankle and the magical artifact sitting nearby somehow not at the forefront of his mind. Eventually Corvo caught his gaze and stared back, raising a brow in a silent question.

“You kissed me,” Daud finally blurted. A small, almost knowing smile crept onto Corvo’s face.

“You kissed back,” he said calmly.

“It--we--had to make it look realistic,” Daud sputtered, as Corvo’s smile turned into something more suggestive. He slid down the bed, leaning forward, as Daud’s eyes widened with alarm, his gaze flickering to Corvo’s lips, and that half lidded smile. 

“So. You wouldn’t want me to kiss you again?” Corvo purred, leaning in, his hand coming to rest on Daud’s shoulder, gently pushing him, guiding him back onto the bed. Daud just stared into those dark, intense eyes, his jaw going slack. 

“I wouldn’t...say that…” Daud managed, suddenly finding himself gently pinned to the bed as the man shifted his weight over him, straddling him. Daud’s breath caught in his throat as Corvo leaned down, and their lips met again.

Daud threaded his hands into Corvo’s thick hair, pulling him into the gentle but firm kiss. As the kiss went on, Daud felt the gentle inquisitive brush of Corvo’s tongue along his lower lip. He welcomed him in, deepening the kiss, threading an arm around Corvo’s strong torso. He wanted nothing more than to feel him, to hold him close. 

There was something insane about it all, considering who he was, who they were to each other. In an apartment emptied by bloodflies after fleeing a heist, Daud’s injured ankle propped up on pillows, what may have literally been Delilah’s soul in a bag laying just out of arms reach. But it all didn’t matter. Daud wanted _this_.

Daud’s head was a muddled mess of conflicting desires. But he did know he didn’t want the embrace to end. Wanted to continue holding him, kissing him, feeling him, being felt _by_ him.

Corvo’s hands began to roam, one hand undoing the buttons of his vest, pushing it open, before starting to work on his shirt. Daud returned the gesture in kind, Corvo’s shirt soon falling open under his deft fingers. He’d seen him shirtless plenty of times, even touched his firm, bare torso when they sparred. But he hadn't run his fingers across his chest, been able to caress his warm skin, feel him shiver under his touch. 

Corvo’s fingers finally got Daud’s shirt open, and trailed across his body, through his chest hair, across his stomach, his rough calloused hands running over his scars and fresh bruises alike. Corvo’s mouth left his lips, leaving Daud panting as he trailed down, nibbling along his jaw and neck. It felt so good to be touched. At least until Corvo’s hands started to stray lower, one hand starting to slide down past his belt. 

The familiar old trepidation that helped isolate him from seeking contact, on top of everything else in his life, started to grip him. He snagged Corvo’s wrist, keeping it from going any further. He expected a pause, a curious inquiry, but instead his hand just obediently trailed back up again, and he smothered any of Daud’s lingering concerns with another kiss.

Eventually Corvo pulled away, nipping Daud’s jaw with a satisfied purr. “How’s the ankle?” he murmured.

“What?” Daud muttered stupidly, half dazed, eliciting a chuckle from Corvo. “Right. I mean it’s fine,” Daud clarified after a moment. It was, in fact, still throbbing. But he’d been thoroughly distracted... That was certainly some kind of analgesic. Though he also realized an entire squadron of guards could have come thundering up the stairs in pursuit of them and he wouldn’t have noticed, which probably wasn’t great. But he was having a remarkably hard time caring.

Daud had so many things to say, so many thoughts, questions, but he couldn’t settle on one. He didn’t want to ruin the moment, and was too overwhelmed to think straight. He reached up, trailing his fingers along Corvo’s hair, before his caress slid down to cup the man’s face. He nuzzled into the touch, his eyes sliding shut with a contented hum. 

Instead, Corvo broke the silence, his eyes still shut. “I was angry with myself when I realized I wanted to kiss you…” he confessed, a faint, sad smile twisted his lips as he finally looked down at Daud. It was an understandable reaction, Daud would almost be confused if he hadn’t felt that way. “But I’m glad I’ve...moved on.”

“You’re such a remarkable…” Daud trailed off, unable to articulate his twisting feelings. He admired Corvo, respected him, owed him his life. But at some point an insufferable, soft fondness grew into the mix. A fondness he didn’t feel he deserved to harbor. “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“I take it that’s a good thing?” Corvo said with a twisted smirk.

“Very.”

Corvo grunted, settling down on the dusty bed next to Daud, his arm sliding under his open shirt as he wrapped it around him, pulling himself close. Daud started to turn to hold him back, when his injury reminded him of its presence, and he swore. 

“Okay, might be more than a minor sprain…” he grunted, flopping onto his back again.

“No shit.”

Daud wheezed a faint laugh, reaching the arm pinned under Corvo up to awkwardly comb his fingers through his hair. It would have to suffice. 

The two lay in silence for a good while, enjoying the feeling of holding each other close, before the reality that they were, in fact, still on a mission necessarily intruded. They decided to take turns sleeping. If they evaded notice until morning, the authorities would have the entire city to search. The Dreadful Wale wasn’t due back in for another week at the earliest, which was probably good, it would give some time for the dust to settle. They would definitely have the ports on high alert for the next few days.

Assuming Delilah’s people didn’t have a way to track the box, they were safe. If they did have a way to track the box, they would probably know by morning. 

They were both curious to open the box and see what exactly they’d stolen, but decided it wasn’t worth the risk quite yet. Daud was sure they had the right object, whatever it was. Its energy was like no rune or bone charm he’d come across. What it looked like probably didn’t matter.

Daud insisted on taking the first watch. He didn’t trust for a second that Corvo would wake him up at any point in favor of just staying up all night himself and letting Daud rest. Not that there were too many hours of night left, fortunately Daud was pretty adept at sleeping through the day. Staying awake while Corvo slept was surprisingly nice, peaceful, and gave him the opportunity to think. He stroked Corvo’s hair absentmindedly. The man was far too handsome for his age. 

He couldn’t quite imagine what Corvo saw in him. He knew the man wasn’t one to randomly take others to bed, and even if he was Daud _still_ couldn’t fathom why Corvo would pick him. But here they were. 

Taking turns or not, they both slept with one eye open. But eventually Daud got some rest. When he woke he was dismayed to find, not only did his ankle hurt, but _everything_ hurt. He slowly sat up with a pained grunt, catching Corvo’s attention, who’d been casually flipping through the pages of a book.

“You okay there?” he said with a faint smile.

“I’m getting too old for this shit,” Daud grumbled.

“I don’t know that there’s a good age to be falling off buildings,” Corvo pointed out.

“There is, and it’s not sixty.”

Corvo smiled, shaking his head. “Saw some patrols trying to comb the streets earlier. Was about to wake you, then they just kept walking. Looks like the hives downstairs are still alive. So don’t go down there… But I think we can safely say they can’t track the box,” Corvo said, changing the subject. Daud nodded.

“Good.”

“I was thinking of trying to slip out and get us something to eat, though.”

Daud shook his head. “Don’t bother, there’s food in the bag.”

“What, seriously?”

Daud narrowed his eyes at the man, and his genuine surprise. “Of course there is. There was always a high chance we’d be holed up like this. Since we had to stash clothes and the charm anyway, might as well. Don’t you...plan?”

Corvo pressed his lips into a fine line. Daud had been giving him shit for being impatient and wanting to dive head first into everything practically since they arrived in Karnaca. “Yes, but just not for this. Sort of thing,” he said as he started rummaging through the bag, pulling out the costumes and finding the snacks squirreled away at the bottom. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to keep up their energy for a day, if not keep them full.

“That’s why my boys found you half dead floating in a river,” Daud pointed out. Corvo sighed dramatically, returning to the bed with a canteen, and the wrapped parcel of food stuffs.

“Kiss a guy once and he thinks he can start talking shit,” he said, tossing the canteen in Daud’s lap and sitting heavily next to him.

“Twice,” Daud corrected with a smirk, before leaning in again, he caught Corvo’s chin with his fingers, tilting his head so he could steal another kiss, making Corvo emit a small happy sigh through his nose. “Or three times.”

After a contented, lingering moment, Corvo went back to analyzing their food. There was a bag of honeyed nuts, some dense bread, a couple now very heavily bruised apples, and Corvo wrinkled his nose. “Dried fish?”

“Better than rat skewers.”

“Debatable…”

The two spent the rest of the day hunkered down in the apartment. They had nothing important to do other than avoid being spotted in the windows. They determined that once night fell and they could safely travel again, it would be prudent to return to Sokolov’s apartment. While keeping their distance at the party was vital, it was vaguely known by his neighbors that he had guests from out of town. And if those guests conspicuously disappeared after the heist, that would be a problem. Not to mention the remainder of their clothes and gear, including Daud’s precious healing charm, were still there. But the fact remained, traveling during daylight was far too risky for them.

At least they had a few new ways to pass the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -fuckin' finally?  
> -yes it is cleche as all hell and no i will make no apologies  
> -all aboard the cleche train, destination: bisexual DILFs


	8. Precipice

Daud stood in front of the mirror, towel wrapped around his waist, shaving cream caked onto his face. The village had good baths, but Sokolov had nicer soaps. And bath salts. And new, fresh, sharp razor blades. The combination made for a pleasant shave. Daud was a little mystified by all the products, particularly given the fact that Sokolov himself obviously didn’t shave much, if ever.

His ankle throbbed as he stood. He’d lingered in the warm water, and before the mirror a fair while longer than he meant to. But at least it seemed to be healing. They acquired better bandages to wrap it and keep the swelling down, and naturally his bone charm seemed to be helping. 

He was an absolute mess of bruises. Over the days since his fall, they’d all ripened to dark, sickly shades of purple. A great almost black mark ran crookedly across his chest, from where he hit the edge of the roof on his way down. His torso, knees, and arms were also speckled with marks. The box and uneven cobblestones did him no favors when he tried to roll. It was no wonder he was so stiff and sore after. 

Daud finished up, rubbing aftershave into his skin. Not a scent he would have selected, but the formula was silkier and far more pleasant than anything he’d used possibly ever. He could always steal such small luxuries, he just never really thought to. Some things weren’t worth the risk. Though perhaps maybe now that he knew how _nice_ they were his attitude would change.

Daud looked over his face in the mirror, no nicks, no irritation. He should have been pleased, but instead he was just...annoyed. 

Sometimes, living in the village, when he’d sit back and reflect, he had a hard time understanding how he’d ever lived the life he did. He could remember the rage, but it felt so distant. Then just a few days back in Karnaca, and suddenly the urge to bash every single highborn’s face into a brick wall burned as bright as ever.

He wondered how the others were doing, both those still on the island and their little gang heading off to get music boxes. He worried about the latter. He had confidence in their abilities, but at the same time, losing Billie so soon after he got her back, not to mention Baz, Nadia, and hell, even Theo...the village would never forgive him. He doubted he’d even be able to forgive himself. 

So far, he didn’t have any real reason to worry. He could sense their connections in the back of his mind. Distant, but alive. Besides, they were only a day late by their estimate, which was an imprecise one to start with. They’d need another full week before there were legitimate reasons for concern. But it didn’t stop the paranoid anxiety. 

Finally clean and freshly shaven, Daud limped his way back to his room, holding the towel in place around his waist. Sokolov was out on a social call, but he saw Corvo seated in the study, reading glasses perched on his nose as he perused one of Sokolov’s books, though he watched Daud none too subtly over the rim of his glasses as he passed.

He at least let Daud put pants on before he tapped on his door.

“Need help wrapping your ankle?” he asked, leaning on the doorframe after Daud beckoned him in. He already had the roll of bandages in hand.

“That’d be appreciated,” Daud said, sitting heavily on his bed. 

Corvo nodded, taking a seat next to him, a little closer than was practical, he ran a finger along Daud’s freshly shaved jaw before stealing a kiss. Then the finger trailed down, brushing across the huge purple bruise on his chest.

“That has to hurt,” he said, finally scooting a little further down the bed, helping Daud position his injured foot into his lap.

Daud grunted in agreement. “I’m honestly surprised I didn’t break a rib from how bad it looks.”

As Corvo started wrapping his ankle, Daud kept correcting him, directing where to position the bandages, how to unroll them. The two went back and forth on it a while until Daud let out an exasperated sigh as Corvo plowed ahead, ignoring his instructions.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Daud grumbled.

“No, I’m not, I’ve done this dozens of times.”

“Well, you’ve done it wrong dozens of times.”

“This is how it’s always been done, even since I was a trainee.”

“Just because something has always been done one way doesn’t mean it’s the _right_ way.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to turn wrapping a sprain into some philosophical statement…”

“I’m not, just techniques have advanced. Also you’re wrapping it too tight.”

“I ought to wrap it around your neck-”

“Void help me, you two bicker like an old married couple. But at least the neighbors would never suspect I was harboring a couple fugitives from the way you natter,” Sokolov chimed in with an almost bitter laugh as he entered the apartment. “Also be careful, I could hear you from the hall.” 

The two fell into an awkward silence as Sokolov bid them goodnight, and disappeared to his room. Sokolov was a perceptive man, but neither was sure how much he had divined yet. They had used some degree of caution around him. Daud let Corvo finish wrapping his ankle without further protest. Flawed technique or not, the pressure helped alleviate some of the pain. 

After a time, Daud cleared his throat. “You should go back to your room, Sokolov is liable to notice if you don’t…”

Corvo shrugged. “Let him then.” He leaned over, catching Daud’s chin with his fingers, turning his head before pressing their lips together. “Besides, it’s Sokolov, I could have you right here with the door open and he’d barely bat an eye,” Corvo said with a low rumbling chuckle. Daud found himself trailing after his lips, eyelids heavy, before Corvo’s turn of phrase settled in his gut. He really needed to tell Corvo, before things got any further. He’d been accused of leading romantic partners on enough he preferred to point his preferences out early, even if he knew it had a solid chance of ruining everything. 

Daud sighed, pulling back. The words felt heavy on his tongue. “About that...the ‘having.’ I don’t…”

Corvo smiled, running a hand through his hair. “I was kidding. I wouldn’t do anything now...and even if I did want to, I’d obviously close the door-”

“Yes, clearly. But I mean, I don’t find sex appealing. Generally.”

Corvo frowned faintly and nodded, though Daud wasn’t quite sure what to make of the expression. “That’s okay,” he said, much to Daud’s relief. That was, until he opened his mouth again after a long pause. “It happens a lot with men our age. I’ve heard a lot of guys have success with Dr. Galvani’s tinctures though.”

Daud stared at him for a while, trying to process what exactly he was talking about. When it hit him like a bucket of water to the face. He smacked Corvo upside the head with his open palm, while the man was too surprised to react. “I’m not _impotent_ you asshole-” Daud wheezed, laughing despite himself. 

“What? I mean-- I assumed if- It _is_ common! It’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” Corvo said, his voice strangled as he tried to keep quiet.

“My cock works _fine_ , thank you.”

“Then you just don’t...use it.”

“I suppose you could put it that way. Not with others, no.”

Corvo grunted, thinking for a few moments before nodding. “Guess that makes sense. I was getting a little confused. You never struck me as...coy,” he said with a crooked smile. In the days they’d spent waiting for the Dreadful Wale to reappear, Daud had to guide Corvo’s hands away as they cautiously reached for his groin more than once. He never pushed the matter, and was careful to give Daud ample warning and time to object, but he had to be wondering why the answer continued to be no.

Daud shook his head. “I suppose not.”

“Sorry if I overstepped.”

“You’re fine. And you’re right, if I was interested, I probably wouldn’t be coy at all.” 

“But you’re fine with...everything else. We’ve been doing…” Corvo clarified slowly. 

“Do you think I’d let you if I wasn’t?” 

“I suppose not.”

They fell quiet again, Corvo absentmindedly rubbing Daud’s leg as he thought. 

“I’m sorry,” Daud said finally. 

“For what?” Corvo asked looking up, brow raised.

“I’m sure this isn’t what you...wanted.”

Corvo grunted, his hand going still. “I’ll admit it wasn’t really a possibility I put any thought into...” he trailed off, looking pensive. Daud sagged a little as Corvo gently moved his leg and got up. Though to Daud’s surprise, when he reached the door, he simply closed it, before returning to the bed. He pressed a kiss to Daud’s surprised lips, smiling softly.

“So...does this mean, as long as I promise not to touch your cock, I can take your pants off?” he asked playfully, running his hand down Daud’s chest, until he reached lower, hooking a finger in his waistband. Daud wheezed a startled laugh.

“Why not.”

* * *

“What were our shippers doing? Said they couldn’t find chloroform. This guy alone has enough to knock out an entire neighborhood,” Daud hissed, limping up to a wooden crate packed with glass jars.

“Daud, we don’t have time for this-” Corvo started, as the man grabbed a jar and started tucking it away in his bag. “Seriously? Don’t you think that’s a little dangerous to be hauling around?”

Daud just shrugged. They’d received word that the Dreadful Wale had dropped anchor outside of town, and were on their way to meet Billie at the skiff. Daud didn’t want to make her wait either, but it was a long trek, and a couple minutes wouldn’t make a difference.

They continued on their journey, keeping to rooftops and balconies when they could, though Daud’s injury made navigating some of the steeper rooves problematic, much to his eternal annoyance. 

As they reached the edge of the district, they came to an open plaza. A crackling wall of light blocked off their path, but perhaps more notably, faint sobs came from a woman in the middle of the plaza. She stood, chained up in stocks on public display, her once fine clothes torn and stained with filth, covered in quite literally everything the city had to throw at her. 

Back in Dunwall people usually ignored victims in the stocks. This poor woman had obviously been abused with rotten fruit, and probably blows and rocks if her swollen bloody cheek, black eye, and cracked lip were any indication. Her long brown hair was a tangled rats nest, caked with filth. 

Corvo scowled. “I thought they stopped that practice years ago.”

“I suppose Delilah brought it back.”

Corvo disappeared ahead, scouting for a way to disable the wall of light. Even if Daud was in top condition, there weren’t many good ways around. 

“Please sir, I need water...I’m so thirsty,” the chained woman pleaded, apparently to the guard posted nearby. Daud stared in dismay, he _recognized_ that voice.

“Quit bitching. You’ll get water in the morning,” the guard barked back.

Daud set his bag on the ground, and rummaged for his newly acquired chloroform. He found the bottle and an old sock. He smirked, it would work. He uncorked the bottle, and cautiously tipped some onto the sock. 

It took a couple translocations to get behind the guard. He then pressed the sock to his face. The man was out in seconds, Daud gave an approving nod. He always wanted to try that...worked like a charm. 

He tossed the sock away and hobbled over to the woman. She frantically tried to turn in her chains, hearing the scuffle of the guard falling, and Daud’s limping footsteps approaching.

“Who- who’s there? Please don’t hurt me, I didn’t do anything-” she started to sob, before Daud’s fingers closed on the locking mechanism and pulled. She emitted a startled squeak as the stocks popped open, and she crumpled to the ground. 

“Why do I get the feeling it’s my fault you’re out here…” Daud grumbled. 

The woman gasped as she turned, rubbing her wrist. “I-it’s you. From the party!” she stammered, starting to scramble away, but obviously too weak and in too much pain to go anywhere fast.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you,” Daud said, holding up a hand to stop her escape. It was odd seeing the moth without her mask, but it was definitely her. She was pretty, or would ordinarily be when cleaned up and not battered. Luckily nothing looked serious enough to leave a scar. 

“You. They. They thought I was conspiring with you,” she said, trying to sound angry, but breaking off into sobs. Daud sighed, limping over to her, leaning down, offering her a hand to her feet.

“I’m sorry, it was never our intention to get anyone else involved.”

“I-I thought I was just being nice. Getting Fiona off your friend’s back. Sh-she made it sound like I was running interference for you.”

“The pigeon?” 

The moth nodded.

“That woman really is a piece of work,” Daud grumbled as the young woman tentatively took his hand, and let him help her up. She didn’t seem to recognize him, at least from anything outside of the party. It happened more and more with the younger generation, who didn’t have his wanted poster burned into their consciousness. 

Before she could respond, Corvo appeared behind her, glaring at Daud. “What are you doing?” he snapped, causing the woman to squeak with alarm again, spinning and backing into Daud, forcing him to catch her, and himself as pain shot through his ankle. 

“L-lord Attano?” she gasped, as Corvo’s face fell. “You were the crow?”

“Shit…” he grumbled. 

“D-don’t worry! I swear I won’t tell anyone!” she said as she finally moved to stand on her own feet, brushing her clothes off, almost looking embarrassed. 

Corvo nodded, looking resigned to the situation. “People are going to notice the wall of light’s down. We need to get moving,” he said, gesturing to the now quiet barrier. Daud hadn’t even seen him take it down. That was quick.

“Y-you can’t just leave me here,” the woman stammered, the fear that never quite left her eyes turning to full blown panic. 

Daud sighed. “You can come with us, but we’re leaving Karnaca,” he said, to Corvo’s evident dismay, while the woman’s eyes lit up.

“You’d let me come?”

“Are you insane? We can’t-”

“We’re the reason she’s in this mess. You have any better ideas?” Daud snapped. “We don’t have to take her the whole way, just out of the city.”

Corvo seemed to chew on an answer for a moment before he sagged, turning to the woman. “What’s your name?” he asked, glancing around the plaza. 

“Clara Brimsley,” she said, drawing herself up as best she could, attempting to look dignified. 

Corvo’s scowl deepened. “Brimsley...I recognize that name.”

“My uncle lives in Dunwall...perhaps you’ve met him?”

Corvo and Daud exchanged glances. “Does he still live in Dunwall?” Corvo asked. Clara nodded. 

“Yes. He’s doing well, relatively speaking for anyone living in that city. He had a bit of a reputation for being interested in seances and the Outsider. Delilah’s been more favorable to families like ours. Though there’s a difference between lighting some candles and trying to listen to the void as a scandalous after dinner activity and whatever Delilah’s doing,” she spat bitterly. Daud had sensed some distrust of their new leader at the party, it seemed he was quite correct. “You’re trying to take down Delilah aren’t you? If you got me to Dunwall, I know my uncle would be willing to help. Financially at least.”

The two men exchanged glances again, Daud smiling faintly. “What do you say? If we can’t get Lizzy to help out of the goodness of her heart...cash never hurt.”

Corvo ran a hand down his face and sighed heavily. “Fine. But we have to move.”

They didn’t make particularly good time traversing the city. Between Corvo carrying the energy sucking charm, and Daud limping, helping along a frightened and battered woman who was none too fond of heights.

Eventually they made it to the edge of town, and found Billie’s skiff. She straightened when they saw them, eyeing the three critically.

“Who’s this?” Billie demanded without any preamble, gesturing to Clara, the skiff rocking as she stood to get a better look at her in the dark.

“Good to see you too. She’s a friend. With a rich uncle in Dunwall,” Daud explained.

“Were you followed?”

“No.”

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

Billie nodded, reluctantly accepting his answers, as Corvo loomed in the background, watching them in a manner reminiscent of his namesake.

“Well, welcome. But I think you’re going to have to sit in someone’s lap, this skiff wasn’t really built for four,” Billie finally announced.

Ultimately, Clara ended up in Daud’s lap, largely through her own quiet insistence. Even though she’d since learned his name, and put two and two together, she still almost seemed more intimidated by Corvo. Perhaps her familiarity with Daud after their interactions at the party took the edge off of her fear. And the fact that he released her from the stocks couldn’t hurt either. 

Billie struggled not to smile, biting her lips as the young woman wrapped her arms around Daud in a way that would be flirtatious in damn near every other context. Or maybe it still was, and the girl just had no sense. Corvo, for his part, pretended not to notice, crammed sideways in the bottom of the skiff, knees nearly to his chest, their cargo in his lap, looking disgruntled. They must have painted a fairly absurd picture. 

The night was still, a little too still. Billie ran the skiff without lights, and the Dreadful Wale equally dim as they approached. 

Daud was relieved to see everyone alive and well, but the mood was tense. Apparently, they’d already had an encounter with a patrol ship they barely managed to lie their way out of. The patrols around the city still seeking Corvo and Daud were everywhere. Everyone was on edge. They started drifting back out to sea, as quietly and inconspicuously as they were capable. Unfortunately, in the distance they saw a ship start their way.

With a boat on their tail, and the two most wanted men in Karnaca onboard, Billie abandoned stealth, and pushed the ship’s engines as hard as they would go. At first it looked like it was going to work but slowly, steadily, the other ship started gaining on them. As Karnacas lights faded into the distance, the other ship grew near, and loudspeakers blared, demanding they stop and prepare to be boarded. 

A booming retort rang out through the air, followed moments later by a loud clang, and the hideous scrape of metal on metal. They’d fired some sort of immense grappling hook at them. It skidded and scraped across the deck, before catching a section of guard rail, which it promptly snapped clean off the deck. 

Two more retorts, and two more grappling hooks hit the ship, the first as ineffective as the initial shot, the second smashing through a window, and managing to hook the ship. The immense vessel groaned and creaked as the cable snapped tight, jolting the ship and sending it rocking, nearly knocking Daud from his feet, and successfully knocking Baz from his. 

Everyone scrambled, preparing for a fight. Thomas took the high ground armed with a pistol, while Nadia and Theo hastily handed out swords, brought from below deck; it seemed they hadn’t just acquired music boxes during their trip. Daud hefted the blade, still taking a moment to appreciate the irony. He would recognize an Overseer’s blade anywhere. What a way to arm their operation.

_“Halt! By order of the Empress! Stop and prepare to be boarded!”_ the loud speaker blared again, as the loud roar of a winch started grinding. Another grappling hook landed on an upper deck, catching solidly on one of the masts. 

“Well, at least they’re not trying to sink us,” Corvo spat, sizing up the ship with a disgusted sneer.

“Prepare to be boarded by this, assholes!” Nadia screeched, bursting up from below deck, something hissing and ticking in her palm. She charged forward, and lobbed the grenade with all of her might. Daud couldn’t help but be impressed by the woman’s throwing arm as the projectile burst over the ship’s deck, raising a cacophony of yells and curses. 

“Wait, Nadia, do we have more of those? Maybe we can dislodge the hooks.”

“Are you kidding? We’ll blow ourselves to shit, and they’ll still be on our asses-”

Shots rang out again, but instead of more grappling hooks, conventional bullets pinged off the ship as everyone scrambled for cover. Daud hissed as he moved too quickly, his injury sending bolts of pain through his ankle.

“Way to go Nadia! You’ve pissed them off! Shit, what do we do?” Theo exclaimed, ducked behind cover as shots continued to rain on them.

Daud shook his head, trying to think on his feet as the ship continued to groan and creak against the grappling hooks. Sea battles were not his area of expertise by a long shot. 

“Once we get close enough maybe we can transverse over there, get the drop on them when they don’t expect it--”

Suddenly Corvo’s head shot up. “I hear them. Wait. Hold that thought...Find a way to get the grappling hooks off,” he said suddenly, before he took off from cover, and dove over the far side of the ship, much to Nadia’s dumbfounded, sputtering shock.

“What-?!”

“He’s fine. It sounds like he has a plan, we should do what he says,” Daud barked, sounding far more confident than he felt. What the _hell_ was Corvo up to? 

Moments later, as if there wasn’t enough chaos already, all hell broke loose. The other ship had taken advantage of the cover fire to send a skiff, the boarding party suddenly clamoring up onto the deck. 

Daud reached out a hand, grasping one of the sailors through the void, and sending him flying overboard with a startled squawk and distant splash.

Baz appeared before a pair of men, grabbing them and slamming their heads together before they had a chance to react. Probably not a technique Daud usually would have taught his Whalers, but effective no less. It was good to see he and Nadia were really getting the hang of fighting with their powers. 

Daud, on the other hand, felt completely hobbled by his ankle. The rocking and jerking deck of the ship was hard enough to navigate without pain shooting through his ankle every time he tried to move. So he reluctantly left the fighting to his fit companions, and blinked up to one of the grappling hooks.

He found Billie already at one of the hooks, a pipe wedged between the window and the hook, trying to pry it off. The ship’s wall had already warped and caved; the hook’s grip was tenuous. Daud hurried to her side, hoping their combined strength could finally get it free.

Suddenly there was bizarre, resounding thud from the other ship, and the tiniest bit of slack appeared in the cable. The hook popped free, and the two nearly fell on top of each other. Shouts rang out from the enemy ship, as it rocked and swayed violently. 

Daud blinked to the next hook, finding Theo and Thomas trying to work it loose. In the distance there was another booming thud, the enemy vessel seeming to almost rise up out of the sea a distance, before it crashed back, rocking and bobbing wildly. Daud heard the hissing burst of the whale’s spout, and the yell of at least one sailor abruptly go quiet. A few moments later, in the rocking and heaving chaos of the two ships, they managed to take advantage of the slack, and send the hook skidding back over the deck.

“We’re free, let’s go!” Thomas shouted up to Billie.

“Wait, Corvo’s overboard!” Nadia shouted as the engines roared back to life.

As if on cue, Corvo appeared on deck, stumbling and skidding as he dripped water everywhere. “Their rudder’s disabled! Go!”

Daud translocated back over to Corvo and the others, just as Baz hurled the last of the boarding party overboard while the Dreadful Wale started to pull away. Instead of starting in pursuit, the other ship slowly turned in the wrong direction. 

Daud looked Corvo over, reaching out a steadying hand as the man tipped a little as the boat rocked beneath them. He was soaked and dazed, almost looking vaguely haunted. He shook the sea water from his hair like a wolfhound, then ran his fingers through it, a little wild eyed. 

“You manage to borrow a whale again?” Daud asked with a smirk.

He nodded. “Yeah. I, we- I got her to get the rudder...excuse me...” Corvo muttered, before running to the railing, and promptly throwing up over the side of the ship. 

Daud blinked, limping slowly after him, keeping a reasonable distance until he was done. Slowly Corvo straightened shakily, wiping his mouth. He glanced up at Daud’s concerned, and puzzled face, clearing his throat.

“I uh...I-- no, it may have. Eaten a couple sailors in the process…” he said haltingly, shuddering. Daud winced. Well, that would explain Corvo’s reaction. “I-I can’t fully control them-” Corvo justified hurriedly, while Daud smiled, shaking his head, giving Corvo’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

“I know, you’re fine. That couldn’t have been...pleasant.”

Corvo’s lip twitched into a disgusted sneer. “No… void. The crunch...I’m never eating another rat.”

Daud started to nod, before he paused. “...Wait, what?”

Corvo was saved from having to clarify that statement as Baz appeared to check on them. It seemed they’d escaped the encounter more or less unscathed. Bruises, and scrapes here and there, but nothing serious. With the possible exception of Clara, who Rulfio and Nadia combined could not get to stop sobbing. 

Eventually Clara calmed down, and everyone settled in, Karnaca’s lights fading into the distance, and the pursuing ship left far behind, slowly puttering in circles.

* * *

There was something surreal about being back on the boat with the villagers. Corvo found himself sitting around a table with Baz and Nadia, the aroma of Theo’s cooking drifting through the space. It almost felt like being on the island, like nothing had changed. Except they occasionally had to grab items to keep them from sliding off the table, and Billie was seated with them. If you replaced her with Daud, truly nothing would be different. Unfortunately for Daud, the swells left him so cripplingly seasick, last Corvo saw he was curled up on one of the beds looking a distinctly unhealthy shade of green.

Then again, Billie was like Daud in many ways. Naturally, they looked nothing alike, but there were subtle similarities in her facial expressions, her gestures, even her posture. Corvo could see the family resemblance in that way.

Nadia and Baz were eagerly filling Corvo in on their adventure getting the music boxes, and weapons. They painted a bleak picture. The fort, apparently once bustling with Overseers, only had three men left to guard their remaining artifacts. It seemed most had been shipped off to the north months ago. They’d left a skeleton crew behind to guard what remained, promising to return and collect them and the remaining artifacts. In the meantime the men busied themselves constructing additional music boxes and weapons to aid their brothers in what promised to be an impending battle “for the soul of the empire.” 

As time passed, however, they didn’t return, and there’d been no word from the Abbey. Food stores eventually emptied, and faith ran low. Slowly the men either perished or abandoned their post until only three remained.

Even the last holdouts seemed to have lost hope that their brothers would ever return, and stayed out of a sense of duty. The three were thin, forced to hunt in the nearby wilderness to survive. They planted gardens, but none were experienced farmers, and had been unable to grow quite enough food. 

They didn’t have the strength or numbers to stop them from simply looting the place. But thanks to Theo being old friends with one of the holdouts, he convinced them to provide what they needed without violence. While they clung desperately to their duty, the smallest hope that someone could stop Delilah got them to bend.

“You should’ve seen him, Corvo. The bastard’s smarter than he looks. All,” Baz started, before he straightened in his chair, putting a hand over his heart, and using his best formal Overseer voice. “‘Were we not once brothers? You knew I did not deserve this brand then, and you must trust me now. The fate of the empire is greater than a single heretic-’”

“Or six,” Nadia laughed.

“I think he might’ve left that part out…But his voice changed and everything. Kinda sad though, must’ve been real close with that Brother Daniel guy.”

“No shit. Think he might’ve broken the sixth stricture with that guy a few times,” Nadia said, leaning conspiratorially over the table, waggling her eyebrows. When Baz stared at her blankly she sighed. “Wanton flesh?” she explained, holding her hand up, making a wanking motion. Baz wheezed.

“I can _hear_ you, you know,” Theo called from the galley, which only prompted them to laugh harder. 

“Well? Did you then?” Nadia asked eagerly.

“Don’t be absurd.”

“Restrict the lying tongue, _Theo_ ,” Nadia taunted.

“If you don’t restrict your _errant mind_ you’ll find my _roving foot_ trespassing your _rectal cavity,_ ” Theo snapped as he approached, carrying a large pot of fish stew, which he slammed down on the table for emphasis. Baz was laughing so hard, he was starting to turn purple, while Nadia sighed.

“Damn, I should know better than to try and out stricture a former Overseer.”

As word got out that Theo’s stew was done, Clara and Rulfio joined them, though Thomas was stuck at the helm for now, with Rulfio’s partner keeping him company.

Clara seemed infinitely uncomfortable with the group from the moment she set foot onboard. In an ironic twist even she seemed cognizant of, she felt safest around Daud, and paradoxically nervous around Corvo. Though Baz was slowly, steadily winning her over. Giving her his patented bear hug when she was in hysterics over the attack probably helped. And apparently a flask of some sort of liquor, which she’d partaken of before sitting at the table if the way she swayed with the boat was any indication.

“I suppose this isn’t really where you expected to end up a few days ago…” Rulfio said to Clara with a smile, seemingly also doing his part to put the young woman at ease. 

She sighed, her shoulders sagging as she dipped a slice of bread into her stew. “No. Not at all,” she shook her head with a huff, her brows knitting as she seemed to grow more frustrated than afraid. 

“Why _did_ they end up suspecting you were complicit?” Billie asked.

Clara scowled. “They thought I was too interested in Daud at the party. That someone like me would never actually take interest in someone his age,” she huffed indignantly, shaking her head. “I _tried_ to explain to them, his age was actually a bonus! I thought I’d met some charming older gentleman with a successful business who I could potentially wed and be a lovely trophy wife to. We’d both have our lovers on the side, of course, but we’d find each other’s company pleasant enough. And I could surely tolerate, or even enjoy going to bed with him sufficiently to get him an heir. Then I’d just get to sit back and wait for him to die and inherit his wealth, then get _my_ pick of the young men to share my fortune with…”

Corvo blinked at that rather...detailed plan, as Baz barked a laugh, slapping the table.

“Damn, Missy, you really had that all planned out, didn’t you?”

Clara huffed, nibbling halfheartedly on her bread. “It never hurts to be optimistic...besides, I _did_ find him charming. Not sure what that says about the men I meet when the _assassin_ was better conversation than any of them. Maybe that’s the real reason they turned on me.”

“Well then, obviously you should go for it, if you find him so charming,” Rulfio said with a chuckle, gently elbowing the young woman who pursed his lips at him in annoyance. 

“Well... I imagine he had to have been paid a fortune to kill an Empress.”

Baz chuckled. “‘Fraid to disappoint you Missy, but I don’t think my friend there’s got more than two coins to rub together.”

“He at least has a gold bracelet he stole. And a handful of other things I didn’t catch…” Corvo added helpfully with an amused smile, Clara frowning harder into her soup. 

“Well I suppose I’m more than likely stuck being an outlaw anyway,” she huffed.

“Think you’d be barkin’ up the wrong tree with that one. Best to just let it go,” Baz chuckled, patting Clara on the shoulder, though as he did, he glanced up at Corvo with a knowing smirk. Corvo blinked. What was that about? He couldn’t possibly know, they’d barely been on the ship a few days, there’s no way Daud would have simply _told_ him. At least not already.

It had been surprisingly hard. In Karnaca, Corvo found himself sneaking into Daud’s room. Though he believed Sokolov suspected, it felt odd to be out in the open about it. But it’s not like they had _any_ privacy now. And neither was eager to open that can of worms. Though he had managed to steal a clandestine kiss before the sea turned Daud’s stomach against him. It was surprising how much Corvo already missed touching him.

Eventually they stopped teasing Clara about her...oddly specific marriage plans, and the conversation drifted. At first Corvo was anxious being around the former Whalers. But the more he was around them, the more they just felt like any of the other villagers. Or any other city dweller. They lacked the villager’s distinct brand of off kilter from being isolated on that weird little island for years.

“I admit I am curious how you of all people ended up friends with Daud...no offense or anything.” Billie said to Baz, who laughed, clearly without any offense taken. 

“Yeah, he’s not the most trusting guy around. But...it’s like befriending a stray cat. You just gotta be nice and consistent and don’t push its boundaries. And more importantly keep throwin’ bits of fish at it, and eventually it’ll realize you’re safe and hang around and start grooming in your general vicinity. Might even rub up on your leg every once in a while.”

Several people at the table laughed, while Billie rubbed her forehead. “Void... I hate how accurate that is…”

Corvo shook his head with a chuckle. He doubted Daud would appreciate being compared to a stray cat. But it seemed pretty accurate. 

“Befriended a lot of stray cats in your time?” Clara asked.

Baz nodded. “Literally and metaphorically...Really kept the rat population down ‘round the base.”

“Literal or metaphorical rats?” Rulfio asked with a chuckle.

Baz wheezed. “Both.”

Eventually, Daud’s stomach adapted to the sea, and he was able to once again join everyone. Late one evening, Corvo spotted him slipping out above deck. He followed quietly, watching with more fondness than he really knew how to process as the man lit up a cigarette.

Corvo slipped forward and approached him from behind, sliding his hands around his waist and nuzzling his face into Daud’s neck. He missed touching him so much. 

Daud chuckled faintly at the contact, a puff of smoke disappearing into the night air as he leaned back against Corvo.

“Someone will see us, you know,” he said. Corvo murmured a soft, disgruntled noise into his neck, squeezing tighter. 

After a moment he sighed, resting his chin on Daud’s shoulder instead. “You know, it’s ironic. Sneaking around...reminds me of being with Jessamine in a way. Didn’t particularly care for it then either.” Corvo gave him a final squeeze before letting go, coming to stand beside him instead, shoulder to shoulder. Probably close enough to still be suspect to an observer, but he didn’t care. 

Daud flicked the ash off his cigarette with his thumb, turning to study Corvo. The man eyed him back, resting his forearms on the guardrail. He was obviously chewing on something. Uneasy. Reluctant to speak. Corvo raised a brow, waiting. 

“How can…” Daud started, before trailing off, reconsidering his words. “...I guess...Forgiving me is one thing. But this? After what I did to her…”

Corvo smiled sadly. He should have known that was coming, after mentioning Jessamine. It had taken a lot of introspection to clarify his feelings to himself even, Daud had to be at a complete loss. 

“Forgiveness never quite feels like the right word. I’m still...furious about what you did. I probably always will be,” Corvo said slowly, Daud’s brows raising with surprise as he spoke. “But you can still be mad at someone and care about them. Hell, I’m still furious at Jessamine for some of the things she did.”

“Oh? Political things?” Daud asked, almost seemed to grimace at his own inquiry after the words left his lips. Sokolov was right, the man was curious to a fault. Corvo smiled.

“There were some of those. The biggest thing, though, was Emily. Obviously, I knew taking Jessamine to bed entailed some risk. I just...assumed she was taking precautions, though she admitted later that she wasn’t. She would have said as much if I asked, but who would think to ask under the circumstances? It wasn’t like it was our first time either, and she always had in the past. What I didn’t realize was she wanted an heir, and didn’t want any of her other lovers to be able to make any sort of move for power as a result. She knew I wouldn’t.”

Daud stared at him, owl eyed. “That’s...terrible.”

Corvo shrugged. “When I found out Jessamine was pregnant, I was excited to have a child with her. Scared, of course, but still happy. I would have agreed if she asked me about it first. I would have done anything for her, and she knew that. It’s probably why it didn’t even occur to her to run it by me first. I don’t think she even realized how terrible it was that she didn’t until after I confronted her about it. She apologized but, what was done was done.

“I loved Jessamine. She and Emily were my entire world. Sometimes, even now, it is hard to say where my duty ended and my love for her as a person began. I’m sure Jessamine would be furious about us. Emily too. But they’re gone now. Besides, I like to think they’d want me to be happy. Even if the circumstances are...unconventional. And Kell was right, it’s no use letting the dead rule my life.” 

Daud cracked a crooked smile. “Kell’s a smart lady.” He chuckled. “Pretty sure she had us pegged before we did.” Corvo grunted in agreement. Daud paused again, looking Corvo over. “Have you had other lovers? If...I can ask.”

Corvo nodded. “Yes and no? Jessamine and I had something of an open relationship. I guess there was one fellow from the Tower Guard. Handsome. Shy. Even quieter than I am…” he trailed off with a mischievous smirk. “Though surprisingly, gave mind bending blowjobs.” Daud wheezed, no doubt not expecting that particular twist. Though, to be fair, Corvo hadn’t either. “But as nice as that was, it wasn’t really worth pursuing if we couldn’t talk. It was also strange, since I wouldn’t feel right taking another lover without letting them know about Jessamine, but given the delicate nature of _that_ relationship, it wasn’t information I could just give out. Mostly I was too busy with my duties to bother.”

“It was a little less complicated after Jessamine’s death. Had a few folk here and there, hoping it would turn into _something_ more than a brief dalliance or dinner once or twice. But it never did. It’s been a long time since I felt like this about anyone…” he shook his head. He slid his hand over Daud’s where it rested on the rail, lacing their fingers together almost absentmindedly as he spoke. 

“It’s been a long time for me too,” Daud murmured, his voice barely audible above the sounds of the water and the steady low rumble of the engine.

“But there were…?” Corvo prompted. It only seemed fair if Daud got the dirt on his past relationships, he should get the same. “Other than that poet.”

Daud rolled his eyes at that with a smirk, and sighed. “Yeah. Seemed like every last one of them...excused themselves from my life when they found out I wasn’t particularly interested in fucking them. Stopped bothering after a while. Besides, had plenty of other things to worry about.”

Corvo frowned, nodding. That explained why he’d been so nervous about saying anything. 

They fell into silence, Corvo running his thumb along Daud’s hand. After a time Daud cleared his throat, and shook his head, seemingly eager to change the subject.

“We should open the box while we’re out here in the middle of the ocean. See what exactly Delilah has her soul stuffed into. Probably want to know before we have to figure out how to use it on her.”

Corvo nodded. “I was hoping you’d suggest that at some point. I’m damn curious.”

Daud chuckled. “Me too.” 

“Do you really think she’d be able to see it without that bone charm?”

Daud shook his head. “I have no idea. It seems like marked people often have some powers in common...but not all of them. Though Delilah is more powerful than anyone I’ve met.”

Corvo nodded as they headed back to the belly of the ship, trying to shake away an annoying thought that had been popping up in his head since he found out how Daud’s Arcane Bond worked. What would happen if Daud shared that particular gift with Corvo? Would he get all of Daud’s powers? Would he simply be able to blink slightly differently? Daud mentioned time paused when he used his power, which seemed useful, but Corvo was very well practiced with his own blink.

There was also the fact that Daud could sense his bonded. Something of a violation of privacy the man seemed acutely aware of, even if his bonded didn’t seem to mind. Corvo told himself, it kept him from wanting it, but the truth was...it almost would be comforting. To know Daud could sense him if something happened. Maybe even find him, or summon him. Part of him wanted to share such a strangely intimate connection with the man. 

Corvo snapped back to reality as Daud closed the cabin door behind him, and pulled the box from its sack. He sat down on the bed, box resting on his legs, scowling down at it, looking dubious.

“I half expect this thing to be like any other bone charm. Half expect it to be something horrifying, like...I don’t know. Some ball of teeth and hair.”

Corvo smirked as he sat down on the bed next to him. “I strongly suspect the latter.”

Daud grunted in agreement, and slowly opened the box. The man let out some sort of disgusted noise, as Corvo felt himself stop breathing. His world suddenly narrowed to that pulsing, twitching thing resting in the bottom of the velvet lined box. Corvo leapt to his feet as he stared.

He kept the heart...Jessamine’s heart close after the coup was done. That haunted, whispered voice, that was so foreign yet so familiar. A tiny scrap of his beloved, trapped in something twisted and wrong. But he couldn’t let go. 

Then one day, it simply vanished. He tore his quarters apart looking for it. Terrified one of the maids as she came in to give him new sheets and found the place looking like it had been burglarized, Corvo frantically tearing books off the shelves as if he would find it wedged behind them. He knew by then it was gone, but he couldn’t stop looking, praying it wasn’t true. 

“Creepy…” Daud murmured.

“That’s...that’s. That’s her... That’s Jessamine’s. The Outsider gave me… It’s back? How, why would Delilah’s soul be...We...we found the wrong thing, we must have...” Corvo stammered, while Daud blinked at him.

“Corvo, you’re not making any sense. It’s creepy, but it’s just a-” Daud started as he reached to pick up the heart, but Corvo slapped the box out of his hand, sending it clattering into the wall and the heart tumbling to the ground with a sickly thump. 

“Don’t you touch her!” Corvo snapped, as Daud reeled.

“Corvo! What-?!” 

Corvo knelt down and reached out his hand, shakily, almost reverently. The leathery, twitching surface was familiar, like he’d held it in his hand mere days ago. But there was something...wrong. As his fingers closed around it, gently squeezing, he heard a voice. The wrong voice.

_Take me to her! To my body!_ Delilah’s furious voice rang out through his mind. Not a tired, lost whisper but a furious single-minded demand. 

The Outsider brought Jessamine’s heart back to him, but replaced her with Delilah. She was gone. Jessamine was truly gone. All of her. He let the heart slip from his fingers, shaking his head roughly.

“Damn you, damn your eyes… _damn your eyes!_ ” Corvo hissed.

“Corvo, what’s going on? Why do you think it’s Jessamine’s…?” Daud asked, making no move to touch the heart, or even look at it as it lay near his feet. Corvo started to pace in the cramped room as he ran his hands through his hair. His hands clenched into fists, pulling his own hair, as if only he could squeeze hard enough to put his thoughts in order.

“It is- or it was. It’s not. Delilah’s in there now. The Outsider gave it to me. Long ago...I’m sorry. I’m…” Corvo gave up, his throat clenching, tears stinging his eyes. The twitching _thing_ on the floor wasn’t Jessamine. It never was. Just a shadow locked in an abomination, given to him by the Outsider seemingly to torment him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry...I just. Need to be alone. For a while,” Corvo managed to spit out, throwing open the door and hurrying out, plowing into Nadia in the process. He had barely enough sense to catch her and shuffle her to the side before he hurried away, above deck. To fresh air. He needed to clear his head. Needed to get away from that thing. Needed to get away from Daud, the man who drove a blade through that very heart. Yet also the man part of him wanted to hold him. Comfort him in the face of all of this. The mix of emotions made him feel ill.

But for now, what he needed was space.

It was several hours before Daud dared show his face near Corvo again. But by then he’d cooled off, gotten his swimming thoughts together. He explained what the heart was, what it was to him. Daud seemed rightfully horrified that the Outsider would give him such a “gift.” Daud volunteered to carry the heart on Corvo’s behalf, when they confronted Delilah. Apparently, it told him how to put her back while Corvo was collecting himself.

“I’m sorry. For how I acted-” Corvo started, before Daud held up a hand.

“No need to apologize. It’s. Completely understandable.”

Corvo nodded reluctantly. “All I could think of is how Jessamine would be furious if I let you near her...even if it is just a shadow of her. I guess I’m still protecting her.”

“And I’m the person she needed protection from. You know it’s not your fault, Corvo. There’s nothing you could have done…” Daud murmured, his voice heavy with regret. “I’m sorry.”

It was funny, that phrasing. Almost like Daud was some terminal disease destined to murder Jessamine. And in a way it was true. 

“Like I said. I don’t know if I’ll ever stop being angry with you. But I’ve moved on. Am...trying to move on. Seeing that _thing_...it felt like I had a fraction of her back again. That...scrap of her. But now Delilah’s in there,” Corvo sighed. “Really, it’s probably for the best. She wasn’t...it was only a fragment of her. A scrap that sounded like it was lost. Suffering. It was selfish of me to ever want to hold on to it. It was horrifying to hear Delilah’s voice in there, but it’s probably for the best. She’s really, truly can be at peace now.”

* * *

The rest of the voyage passed uneventfully, and moral remained high, all things considered. Daud’s injury felt like their greatest worry, but it was well on its way to being healed by the time Gristol’s shores were in sight. 

Tension built as they approached Dunwall, everyone keeping a stark lookout. The usually bustling shipping lanes were eerily quiet as they steamed ahead. A thick, familiar coat of fog blanketed Dunwall, both masking their approach, and hiding the city. The city was dark. Too dark, even with the fog. A quiet dread settled on everyone, even those who knew what to expect. Corvo steeled himself for what he was walking into. It was a hellscape when he fled the first time; he couldn’t imagine it being any worse.

Billie dropped anchor in an out of the way cove, and started ferrying everyone to shore. They had a plan for the evening. Two groups would venture into the city: Corvo, and Clara would find Clara’s uncle, see if they could win him over to their side, get his help. Daud, Nadia and Billie would go pay Lizzy Stride a visit. Everyone else would lay low and keep their supplies safe.

It killed Corvo to see the city decaying, seeing Delilah destroy everything Jessamine and Emily worked to build, to protect. Still, it had changed since he left, some even for the better. As dead as the streets were, he occasionally spotted life in the form of lights flickering in windows. A few buildings even seemed repaired. It all suggested life was returning to the city, but the streets were eerily still as they traveled.

Corvo’s skin itched as they walked through the streets, keeping to shadows as best they could, his head constantly on a swivel. With Clara, it was impossible to be completely stealthy in their approach. She couldn’t navigate the rooftops safely, and Corvo wasn’t about to subject her to the humiliation of just being carried like a sack of potatoes the whole way, so they walked. 

Occasional faces peered down from windows, watching them slink through the darkened streets. Corvo pulled his hood as far over his face as it would go, paranoia twisting his gut.

Finally, the silence was broken by rowdy voices. Corvo hushed Clara, and wrapped his arm around her waist, before blinking them both up to the roof of an abandoned shop. The young woman gasped, but at it wasn’t her first time traveling magically. Corvo quietly ordered her to stay back, as he cautiously crept to the edge of the building, peering down. 

The group consisted of four women, each with a strange complexion in one way or another, gray or seemingly marred with tree bark. The last was a large man with a pistol tucked in his belt and a bowler cap. 

“These patrols have been so void damned boring lately…” one of the women bemoaned, hopping forward a few steps to kick an empty glass bottle, which pinged against the cobblestone before shattering in the gutter.

“Seems people’ve gotten the message about following Delilah’s orders,” the man grumbled. 

“Ought to just kick in a door, bring the fun to us,” another whined.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“But I’m so b-o-r-e-d…”

Corvo waited silently until the group was well out of sight, even out of earshot before he helped Clara down from the roof, and they continued their journey. That explained why the streets were so quiet.

As they neared the Estate district, the streets grew cleaner, but remained just as empty.

Eventually they reached the Brimsley manor. Corvo recognized the mansion as one of the fancier, and most luxurious ones in the district. While he couldn’t completely remember who it belonged to, he was sure it wasn’t Mr. Brimsley. Seemed the man was doing well for himself. He shifted uneasily as Clara scampered up and eagerly knocked on the front door. 

At first no one answered, prompting Clara to knock again, louder this time. She looked around, wringing her hands nervously. “Please uncle, please, please…” she chanted under her breath, bouncing on her toes.

Voices began murmuring from within the mansion, curtains shifting, curious eyes peering down at them. After what felt like an eternity, the front door cracked open the tiniest sliver. 

“Who’s there- Clara?” a gruff voice asked, as Clara clasped her hands to her chest with a gasp.

“Troy! It’s good to see you,” she squealed, as the door opened the rest of the way. “Uncle!” 

In the doorway stood a brick wall of a man, dressed in a guard’s uniform with his sword drawn, but lowered to his side, and several steps behind him stood a slender, pale nobleman who did indeed look familiar. 

“Clara! What- when did you- come in! Quickly! What are you doing on the streets after curfew?! Who is your friend?” Mr. Brimsly asked, rapid fire as he waved them in, his guard stepping aside to grant access, and hurriedly shutting the door behind them. 

Clara ran forward, and threw her arms around her uncle, who hugged her back, before holding her out at arm’s length, looking her over. “My dear, what happened to you?” he asked, patting her hair. She was wearing the same clothes they’d found her in. She’d borrowed others during the long journey, and mended and cleaned her original clothes as best she could, but they still looked like hell after her ordeal. 

“It’s a long story. Delilah’s people falsely accused me and put me in the stocks, and Corvo saved me,” she said, gesturing back to the man in question.

“Corvo?” Mr. Brimsley’s eyebrows furrowed at the name, and then he did a double take when Corvo pushed back his hood, and the man finally recognized him. “L-Lord Attano! You’re alive! And. Wait, why are you with Clara? What’s going on?”

With that Clara started into the long sob story, as the guard locked and bolted the door behind them, looming suspiciously, but still put his sword away. Corvo looked around the mansion with a critical eye; from the inside, you’d never know Dunwall was on the verge of collapse, though it was perhaps a little bit...eclectically furnished. He had to wonder if it was half Brimsley’s furniture, and half the original owner’s. 

Brimsley took Clara’s story in with a wide-eyed look of astonishment, his hand never leaving his niece’s wrist, almost as if he feared she’d vanish if he let go.

“I’m sorry to spring this on you, but the situation is dire. We need your help-” Corvo said finally, but Brimsley cut him off.

“Of course. Anything. You’ve saved my niece, and you saved my life during the rat plague,” he said hurriedly. Corvo blinked, looking him over. Saved him during the rat plague? Then finally he remembered a group cowering among piles of corpses, taken for dead and dumped on the pile, left to die, or be killed by the patrols. To say Corvo was preoccupied at the time would be an understatement, but he couldn’t simply leave them to die.

“I-I know it was you. You had that mask but...it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together after. So. I thank you...Whatever you need. Delilah may be treating me well compared to others but...at what cost? Living in constant fear? If you have a chance at success...I’ll do what I can.”

Brimsly ushered the group deeper into the mansion, setting a skittish maid off to prepare some rooms for their new guests. 

Corvo nodded. That went better than he could have imagined, he could only hope Daud was having as much luck...

* * *

“Man, look at the balls on these idiots, out after curfew…” a thug laughed, heaving herself off the crate she was using for a chair, gesturing at Daud and the others with her sword. Daud raised a brow, eyeing her surroundings. She and man were guarding a broken and twisted wrought iron gate that marked the entryway to a small courtyard

“You seem to be ‘out’ as well…” Daud said as he strode up to the opening. The woman cocked her head, looking him over.

“Nah, it’s private property from here back,” she said, gesturing with her sword to where the gate once stood. “The fuck you want.”

“We’re here to see Stride.”

“Yeah? No shit. Got an appointment?” she sneered. Daud sighed, folding his arms. 

“Tell her Daud is here to see her,” Nadia said, coming up to stand next to him. Neither thug seemed to recognize her, unfortunately.

“Daud? _That_ Daud?” the thug said in disbelief, giving him another thorough once over. She rocked back on her heels. “Well, no shit…Thought your crusty old ass looked familiar. Wait, Lizzy said you were like one of those witches, right? Prove you’re the real deal. Do something...witchy,” she said, waving her hand dramatically in what must have been a ‘witchy’ way for emphasis.

Daud signed. “Seriously?”

She shrugged. “Seems your options are to leave, try and punch your way in, or you can dazzle us with your magic power-” the thug screeched, nearly leaping out of her skin as Daud disappeared in a flutter of void, and reappeared behind her.

“Happy?” Daud asked, leaning forward and speaking directly into the startled woman’s ear.

“Shit! It really is you...shit!” The woman gasped, staggering back square into Nadia. Her friend got to his feet, looking equally wild eyed. “The...the fuck you doing back in Dunwall? What do you want with Lizzy?”

“For now, that’s between us and Stride. Got a business proposition. Now are you letting us in or not? You realize you can’t really stop me. I’m asking to be polite.”

The thug cursed, looking to her companion. “Guard the gate, I’ll take ‘em. I suspect Lizzy’d want to see this crew.”

The thug led them into a large building, a gutted factory, or perhaps a warehouse of some kind, but the Eels had furnished it with tables and chairs. The place had the feel of a bustling speakeasy, full of drunk cutthroats. They entered on the upper level, with even more activity below in what looked to be some reappropriated loading dock, complete with a massive flooded cut out in the floor that would allow surprisingly large ships direct access if the doors weren’t closed tight. 

Nadia skipped forward, looking around urgently, until she spotted her. “Lizzy!” she called, before hopping the rail, and disappearing mid fall. Daud shook his head, she and Baz really had taken their “practicing” to heart while they were gone. 

Nadia reappeared near a large table in the smack center of the building. Everyone at the table leapt to their feet at someone suddenly materializing in their midst, most drawing weapons. Luckily for her, a familiar, slender figure recognized her, and the two threw their arms around each other in a hug.

Billie sighed at the scene. “That girl…” she said, shaking her head, trying to sound critical, but with an unmistakable note of fondness. She shrugged, and followed Nadia’s lead, blinking down.

Daud blinked down as well, settling in one of the recently abandoned chairs as Nadia distracted Lizzy with her unexpected reunion. It seemed they’d been playing poker around the table. Daud picked up the cards in front of him, and frowned at the hand. He looked up at the man who’s seat he’d stolen. “Doesn’t look like your night.”

The man smiled nervously, looking from Daud to Lizzy. “Uh...Boss?” He said, his voice cracking, finally drawing Lizzy’s attention. She blinked at Daud, giving him a thorough once over.

“Ho-ly shit. It really is you. Daud. Damn!” Stride exclaimed as she slammed her palm on the table. “Shit, look at you. Guess you’re the Old Knife now.”

Daud smirked, tossing the cards back on the table. “Speak for yourself, Grandma Stride.”

Lizzy barked a laugh. All in all, she hadn’t changed much. Her now salt and pepper mohawk was wadded into a messy top knot, her wide, file toothed grin as unsettling as ever. She wore a vest, showing off her myriad of at least relatively new tattoos, and her faded old ones. She also wore the vest open enough to display her sagging cleavage with pride, or at least a firm indifference to what anyone would have to say about it. She was certainly still one hell of a woman. 

“Alright, all of you fuck off! Give me and my old friends here some space to catch up, got it?” Lizzy yelled, causing her men to obediently disperse, with the exception of one who stood with his arms folded in silence behind Lizzy. Clearly neither he nor Lizzy thought the order applied to him, probably her second. Daud nodded in approval. As much as she might trust her gang, it was also safe to assume Delilah had eyes everywhere.

Stride gave Nadia’s arm one last squeeze before she sat back down at the table, leaning her elbows on it, scrutinizing Daud as she rested her chin on her interlaced fingers. “You know, ever since Delilah’s coup, I was wondering when the hell you’d show up. Took you so long, I started thinking you might actually be dead.”

“I told you we’d find him,” Billie said, almost sounding smug as she took a seat next to Daud. Lizzy’s gaze slid from Daud to Billie and back again, a carefully concealed surprise reflected in her eyes. He knew word of Billie’s betrayal spread around the underworld back then, or at least among the few who dared have anything to do with the Whalers. The fact that they stayed out of turf wars and the usual gang antics made them enigmatic. And threatening.

“Had to know how you even put down an unkillable witch first,” Daud said. Lizzy nodded knowingly.

“Mm, yeah. Didn’t do so great a job with that the first time around seems like. Thought you never left a job unfinished.”

Daud rolled his eyes. “I still don’t know how she clawed her way out of the void. And besides, it wasn’t actually a job…”

Lizzy raised a brow. She’d helped him and the Whalers back then, so she knew at least a few things about Delilah, her crew, and what they were up to. But he hadn’t felt it necessary to enlighten her on the full story. Hell, most of his own Whalers didn’t know the full story. Most were content to call it revenge and leave it at that.

“I know what you’re after. And I’m sorry, Daud, but I’m just in no position to do anything. The Hatters practically own the city. And between them and Delilah’s own thugs...we just don’t got the resources. Can’t ask my crew to take on a suicide mission.”

“Leaving Delilah in power is suicide,” Billie pointed out, leaning over the table.

“So you’ve mentioned,” Lizzy grumbled.

“We have resources. Grenades. Sabers, and a couple dozen Overseer music boxes,” Daud pointed out, making Lizzy’s eyes go wide,

“How the _hell’d_ you pull that off?”

Daud cracked half a grin. “I’ve met some interesting people the last few years.”

Lizzy nodded, again eyeing Daud critically, her head tilting. “What about cash? I’m not runnin’ a charity operation here.”

Billie sighed. “Lizzy, you know the costs if Delilah says-”

“We’re working an angle on that right now,” Daud interjected, hoping Corvo would have luck. And well, if not...they knew of at least one noble to rob blind.

Lizzy sagged, dragging a hand down her face, running out of excuses. “I don’t know…Still seems like a damn suicide mission. We’re smugglers. Street warfare’s more the Hatters bailiwick.” 

“You know there’s no way the Hatters will help,” Billie said, leaning over the table urgently. 

“It’s really not a suicide mission, Boss- er, Lizzy. They’ve put together a solid plan. You always used to trust my judgment, right? You’ve gotta believe me on this one,” Nadia added. 

Stride narrowed her eyes at Nadia. “You’re right. I did. Till your judgment got you booted clean outta Dunwall.”

Nadia scowled. “You know that was just bad luck.” 

Lizzy sighed, pushing herself up from her chair, she started pacing, scrubbing her face with her hands as she thought.

“You know your smuggling operations are hanging on by a thread with everything Delilah’s done. How many of your gang have you lost to her people?” Billie asked. That made Lizzy finally stop in her tracks.

“I lost five of my crew the first week curfew started alone. She just lets her people hunt anyone they find outside for sport. It’s sick. I think she has the Hatters in her pocket. They’re ruling the black market, and shit, that business was never exactly a charity. But Dunwall’s in a bad way, people can’t find food even if they’ve got the money to pay. ‘Cept for the black market, but the Hatters are keeping such a death grip on the supply, milking every last cent they can out of it. She heaved a sigh, finally coming to a stop. She turned to Daud, staring him down.

Daud scowled, he could empathize with trying to keep a crew safe in desperate times. But of course, Lizzy was there for the plague too. “It’s so much worse here than I thought. And if this keeps up, the death toll is only going to keep mounting. Delilah’s worse than a plague. But unlike the plague, we could actually do something to stop her,” Daud said grimly, as Stride nodded slowly, still scowling.

“Don’t suppose you can give my crew those powers your Whalers all had, can ya?”

Daud shook his head reluctantly. “It doesn’t work that way. Honestly, I don’t know how Delilah does it. She’s found more...ancient rituals that I ever did. We both may have been marked by the Outsider, but I’m not afraid to admit my power doesn’t even come close to hers. No marked soul I’ve ever met has.”

Stride folded her arms, thinking it over. “Got a couple spies in her ranks. Could ask ‘em to see if they can’t get the details on the ritual, they’ve been through it, after all. Think you could do it if you got the info?”

Daud raised a brow. “If they can, it would be worth a shot.” He leaned forward, with a smirk. “So, does that mean you’re willing to help us?”

Lizzy pressed her lips into a thin line, still studying Daud. But after a few moments she sighed, arms dropping to her sides. “Y’know, when they said they’d drag you into this, I wasn’t convinced. Didn’t really care neither. But. Shit. You’re not the man I remember. And that’s a good thing. Don’t need any more knives cutting up Dunwall worse than it is.” She flopped back in her chair. “We’ll see about that ritual. And tell me how much scratch you can get my crew, and I’ll...consider it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -And thus Daud discovers his boyfriend eats rats  
> -Gotta have time to talk about Feels when plotting an assassination  
> -<3 to my readers, your comments fuel me. Seriously though thank you for all the support!


	9. Delilah

Daud almost couldn’t believe their plan was actually coming together. Everything had grown in complexity, which usually would make him extremely nervous. But in this case, he got the feeling the whole damn _city_ was on their side.

Thanks to Delilah’s night patrols, they had to move supplies from the Dreadful Wale during the day. The City Watch under Delilah, however, were all either shockingly corrupt or quietly disgusted with Delilah, which made them all remarkably easy to bribe. Lizzy’s people started expertly disseminating rumors that they were planning an attack on the Hatters, to divert any suspicion if people noticed weapons being purchased in bulk and moved through the city, which they inevitably would. 

Their new patron, Mace Brimsley, had a truly alarming quantity of money, even by the man’s own admission. Daud was unclear about what industry, if any, his family was involved in. Other than apparently scooping up the fortunes of those Delilah deemed undesirable. But at least now he was putting it to good use. They’d obtained some good supplies from the Overseers, but Brimsly’s cash had them flush with grenades, pistols, and just about anything an Eel could want. 

Still, watching everything come together while safely hidden away in Brimsley’s manor grated on Daud’s nerves. He wanted to be down, helping his men, hands on, inspecting the goods, listening for dissent and routing out threats. But everyone decided he and Corvo couldn’t risk being seen in the city. So they stayed hidden away in Brimsley’s mansion, waiting for their time to strike.

At least Brimsley bought good tobacco. Corvo accused Daud of smoking a little bit too much lately, but Daud couldn’t stand simply _waiting._ He needed _something_ to calm his nerves.

Daud was smoking on the roof of Brimsly’s manor, in a location conveniently concealed from nosy neighbors when he heard the door open, and Baz approach. The man had really impressed Daud lately, jumping into a leadership role, and commanding the respect of the Eels working with him despite his folksy charm. Or perhaps because of it.

He walked over to Daud, and shoved a folded piece of paper in his hand. “Here, Lizzy’s girls on the inside got that bonding ritual for ya. Or as close to it as they could muster between ‘em.”

Daud raised a brow, holding his cigarette between his lips as he opened the paper and looked it over. It featured an elaborate circle, some assorted reagents, and a short incantation. It looked like the sort of thing he’d seen Delilah use, but didn’t really mean much to him beyond that.

“Think it’ll work?” Baz asked, leaning against the same crate Daud relaxed against.

Daud shook his head. “No idea.” He folded the paper back up, and tucked it safely away in his pocket.

Daud offered Baz a cigarette, which he accepted. After lighting up, the man took a long draw, exhaling a cloud of smoke with a pensive look on his face.

“You know? I think I’m in love with that Lizzy,” he finally said out of nowhere, drawing a wheezing laugh from Daud.

“Good luck with that.”

“She’s one hell of a woman.”

“She is.”

“Pretty sure she’d bite my cock off with those teeth though.”

Daud chuckled. “Not if she liked you well enough, I’d hope.”

Baz grunted in agreement as he took a leisurely drag. As he exhaled, he flicked the ash off his cigarette, examining it casually. “So. Are you in love with him?” Baz asked, almost a little too casually. Daud raised a brow.

“Who?”

“Theo, obviously,” Baz drawled, making Daud snort. “Corvo, of course. Who else?”

“What makes you think that?”

“C’mon, Daud. Nadia caught you two canoodling on the Wale”

Daud sighed heavily. Great, so much for that secret, and trying to be discreet. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s something like that at least…Does it matter?”

Baz shrugged, tilting his head. “Eh. Depends. Just...concerned.”

Daud’s brows rose. “Concerned?”

“Just some things got me questionin’ your motives. Like you still thinkin’ you owe the guy your life. And how you’re not a fan of the ole’ sausage duelin’.”

Daud smiled, shaking his head. “You truly have a way with words.”

“I try.” Baz paused, but continued on when a response wasn’t forthcoming. “See. Feeling like you owe someone’s a funny thing. Get this...false sense of loyalty. They say jump, you say how high. They say suck my cock, and well...suddenly gettin’ down on your knees doesn’t seem too bad, yeah? Just known too many people who got themselves in bad situations before. Wind up convincing themselves they want to do things when they really don’t.”

Daud eyed him, incredulous. “It’d take a hell of a lot to get me to do something like that if I didn’t want to. Sometimes I think you forget who you’re talking to.”

Baz shook his head, with a knowing smirk. “I might be the only one of this crew who does know who he’s talking to.”

Daud wanted to snap back in response, but everything died on his tongue, instead a faint smile softened his face. As almost painful as it was, he was right. “It’s not because I owe him. I can’t say what happened doesn’t factor in at all. I admire that he would have mercy in that situation...the fact that it was directed at me is incidental.”

“Is it?”

Daud sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Yes, I owe him my life. I still feel that way. But that would drive me to put a knife in someone’s back for him. Not share a bed with him.”

Baz nodded sharply. “Fair enough...In that case. I’m happy for you.”

Daud grunted in acknowledgment, feeling his face growing hot. “Baz...never change.”

“Not plannin’ on it.”

* * *

Daud stood somewhat awkwardly at the far edge of the ritual circle, his two volunteers standing nervously at the other two points of a triangle drawn in the circle’s center, connecting the three. Corvo sat off towards the back of the room, observing. 

He was glad Daud was the one doing it. While they realized technically Corvo had just as great a chance at success, Corvo had never sought out any rituals or magic beyond what he simply acquired from the Outsider. Daud had, though not nearly to the extent Delilah did, clearly. He just never had much luck with it, and focused his pursuits on other areas. Corvo just found the whole process off-putting. 

Daud read over the paper a few more times, muttering something under his breath, before looking back up at the two volunteers.

“I have...no idea if this is going to work,” Daud said, not for the first time that evening. The volunteers nodded as they had the last time.

Finally, Daud tucked the paper away, and took a moment to steady himself. He held out his hand and recited the incantation as the volunteers anxiously held their breath, and...nothing happened. Daud scowled, cleared his throat, and tried again. Once again, nothing happened. Corvo sighed, leaning against the wall with a frown, waiting for Daud to try again, or say something, but he just stood there. Then he noticed it. The man was still, perfectly still. So still Corvo half wondered if time had stopped, but the candles still flickered, and the volunteers still shifted uneasily, as they too noticed that Daud seemed...frozen.

Corvo hopped to his feet in alarm, had this been a trick? Some sort of trap? Then he saw something odd, faint, torn afterimages that looked like Daud moving. Still standing in place, but gesturing, looking unconcerned. 

Then he saw another flicker of a form, shattered and vague but recognizable. A slender, pale young man with dark hair. One of the volunteers gasped.

“Is that-” she said, her voice shrill.

The Outsider’s image flickered in and out of reality a few times, prowling around Daud as he seemed to speak, in a way Corvo found far too familiar. As he watched, eventually the Outsider flickered in front of him, something akin to a grim smile on his lips, those black eyes piercing into Corvo, if only for a fraction of a second. Although he vanished as soon as he appeared, Corvo heard him, almost whispering in his ear.

“Delilah has tapped into a power in the void that is older than even me. A power I was created to contain. She believes she is strong enough to wield it, shape it to her will. She is mistaken. It is breaking her.”

The voice faded away, and a few moments later Daud finally moved. To his surprise, and the surprise of everyone in the room, he suddenly had something in his hand. He looked down at it, then dropped it like it had bitten him, jumping back in alarm with a curse.

“What is that? Did it work?” one of the volunteers asked, seeming hesitant to move from his spot, even as Daud moved from his.

“No. Something else...happened,” Daud said hesitantly, edging back towards the object he dropped, nudging it with his toe. 

“What is it?” Corvo asked, striding forward, as Daud crouched down. He picked the object back up carefully, dangling it gingerly between his thumb and middle finger, like he was hesitant to touch it. When Corvo finally got a look, he understood why. 

At first glance it seemed like some sort of unusual bone charm. Shafts of bone framed a metal casing which held an eye. A distinctly human, and very real looking eye, that moved around. Its gaze darting from person to person, around the room. Small gears rotated along the edge of the eye in the casing as it moved, seemingly facilitating its movements. 

It reminded Corvo of the heart...only possibly more grotesque. At least it didn’t look like Jessamine’s eye. He could only hope this thing didn’t also have a fragment of someone’s soul trapped in it.

“What _is_ that?” the female volunteer asked, edging away in horror.

Daud grimaced. “A gift from the Outsider…” He paused in his disgusted examination to look up at the volunteers. “Go tell Stride it didn’t work. I don’t think I’m going to be able to dole out any additional powers.”

“What happened?” Corvo asked, looking down at the eye with just about as much disgust as Daud did. It even looked...moist. 

“The Outsider appeared. Ridiculed me for trying to use Delilah’s ritual. Said she’d learned how to wield illusions and step out of our world sometimes. Said this thing would let us see through her illusions, and keep her in place. I guess.”

Well, that would explain why it was an eye. “How does it work?”

“I think we just need to have it nearby, on one of us.”

“Think there’s a catch?”

Daud shook his head. “I have no idea...” Daud trailed off, examining the creepy artifact. After a drawn out pause, he held it up for Corvo to examine. “Does that look like Billie’s eye to you?”

Corvo winced. Now that he mentioned it… “Maybe?”

Daud sighed, shaking his head. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter as long as it helps. Not like we can put it back.”

* * *

Everything was in place. They would attack tomorrow, in broad daylight. Daud knew he needed to sleep, but couldn’t. He’d already had one too many cigarettes in an attempt to calm his nerves, which now seemed to be having the opposite effect. He attempted to stop in on Corvo, but he couldn't find him. Instead Daud wound up pacing his room, going over every minute detail in his head, every contingency. 

The eye sat on his desk, its gaze flicking here and there, occasionally tracking him across the room, before some new thing caught its attention. Why was everything the Outsider gave as “gifts” so damn creepy? Eventually Daud draped a handkerchief over it, though the cloth wiggled and twitched as it continued to look around.

Daud jumped when he heard a knock on his door. He hadn’t heard their approach, it had to be Corvo. While he was relieved to see Corvo standing there, the man looked nervous. Naturally, anxiety about their mission was expected, but Daud had the distinct impression his disquiet was based on something more.

He welcomed Corvo into his room, though instead of falling into each other's arms, Corvo shuffled in almost stiffly, running a hand over his hair.

“Daud,” Corvo managed to spit out eventually, almost sounding formal. 

Daud folded his arms, watching him. “Yeah?”

Corvo chewed his lip for a moment, glancing around. His gaze settled on the twitching handkerchief for a moment, his brow furrowing, but he quickly returned his attention to Daud. He cleared his throat. “You should share the bond with me,” Corvo said finally. 

Daud frowned. They hadn’t even broached the topic since the island. Why now? “I have no idea what might happen. _You_ have no idea…”

“We can use all the help we can get. We couldn’t get anyone else with powers, but maybe if you could give me a few more tricks...What’s the worst that could happen?”

“It’s the Outsider, who knows what the worst is.”

Corvo nodded. “I...hesitate to say something like this, but he seems to be on our side for this one. Delilah’s ritual didn’t work for you, but he at least gave you a...thing to fight her. Didn’t trap you in the void or anything. I think it’s worth the risk.”

Daud sighed. He had a point. And he’d clearly been thinking about it longer than Daud had. A few of Daud’s abilities that Corvo didn’t have were particularly useful under the circumstances, like seeing artifacts through walls. Particularly should something happen to him, or the heart. 

There were times when they were apart where Daud wished he could search the back of his mind, do an inventory like he could with the others. See vaguely where Corvo was, if he was okay. Though that ability was the precise reason he hadn’t brought it up. “You do understand, if it’s like it is with the others, I’ll be able to...sense you. And summon you at will. It’s not really something I know how to undo either. I guess time and distance does it but…” he let the conclusion hang. Corvo could connect the dots. So long as they were together, it would be there. If it even worked like usual. 

“I understand. I trust you,” Corvo said, still sounding stiff and nervous, like the words were hard to spit out. Finally, he sighed, shoulders sagging. “I want...I want you to be able to find me. If you need to.”

“Couldn’t have brought this up earlier? We move tomorrow. If something goes wrong there’s not much time to deal with it,” Daud grumbled, even as he felt his face heating up. He appreciated the sentiment. Was flattered even. It felt good to know Corvo trusted him, or rather to hear him say it out loud.

Corvo nodded. “I know, I agree, I should have said something sooner. I just. Well...I think you know why I hesitated. But like I said, I’ve made up my mind. You should do it.”

Daud heaved a sigh. He wanted to, Corvo wanted him to. But he still felt uneasy. Nonetheless, he nodded.

“Very well.” 

Corvo nodded, seeming to brace himself for whatever was to come. Daud reached into the back of his mind, feeling out the connection, and setting it alight as he had the others. At first it was just as anticlimactic as it had been for everyone else. But then he felt a strange tingle. He gasped as he felt a jolt down his arm, to his hand, the mark flashing bright blue for a moment, while Corvo’s flashed a fiery orange in tandem. 

Daud’s eyelids fluttered, his vision going out of focus as he felt it. It was always a bizarre feeling, getting new powers. One he hadn’t felt in a while. Unlike his bonded, it came naturally, without practice, as knowledge just manifested in his mind. Ancient dead words whispered in his ear, the ghosts of his own fingers twitching with muscle memory he never drilled. 

Suddenly he knew the feeling of pulling rats from the void, how to slip into someone’s mind, inhabit their body, or how to send forth air from his palm.

“What was that?” Corvo said, reaching out and grasping Daud’s bicep as he wobbled on his feet.

“I...think I have _your_ powers now…” Daud said, feeling vaguely stunned.

“Really? I think it worked. I mean, for me, the normal way.”

“I don’t suppose you can summon the others?” Daud asked.

Corvo thought for a moment, then shook his head. “Don’t think so, don’t feel anything.” He breathed a sigh of what seemed like relief, a smile coming onto his face. “Guess it was worth the risk. So. You think you have _my_ powers now?”

Daud nodded. “Yes...though I’m not sure Brimsley would appreciate me summoning a bunch of rats in here to try it out.”

Corvo chuckled. “Might want to be careful with that one too. Took me years before I could control them enough to have them not just kill and devour anyone unfortunate enough to get in their path…Or maybe you picked up that too.”

Daud grimaced. “Not sure. I’ll...keep that in mind.”

After a bit of discussion, the two decided to head up to Brimsley’s roof to try out their new powers. While nosey neighbors were a risk, Brimsley’s mansion was one of the taller buildings around, making the risk minimal. Odds of being recognized from a distance in the dark were slim.

The new magic came as easily as it always had for both of them. Though when Corvo summoned a few rats and told Daud to possess one, he still hesitated. It felt vaguely wrong. Still, it’s not like he was about to try and hop into Corvo’s head. His stomach flipped as he did it, the world growing large and strange around him. He scurried a short ways, surprised at how easy it was to have command of four legs suddenly...and a tail. It was as natural as walking.

An immense hand came down to scoop him up. Daud let what came out as a shrill squeal in protest as Corvo picked him up, his giant smiling face looming before him.

“You make a cute rat,” he said.

Daud hissed at him, unamused, and started wriggling in his grip as he felt his grasp on the vermin waning. Soon enough he felt himself lurching away, standing in front of Corvo instead of in his palm, as the man discarded the now motionless rat.

Daud smirked. “I guess that explains you and your affinity for rats. You don’t just summon them, you get to be them.”

“I’ll admit, rats have gotten me out of quite a few tight spots...and through a few I guess you could say.” Corvo chuckled, shaking his head at his own bad pun. “Want to test out your windblast in combat? We haven’t sparred in a while.”

Daud smiled, glancing around. They hadn’t really had the occasion to spar since leaving the island. Sokolov’s apartment didn’t exactly have the space for it, and keeping a low profile in Karnaca was too important. Then on the long journey to Dunwall, even when Daud wasn’t seasick, his ankle kept him from even considering doing something so rigorous. 

“Let’s do it.”

The two squared off as they had plenty of times before. Corvo’s eyes almost seemed to sparkle, eager, before he made the first move. He disappeared in a flutter of shadow that looked far more akin to the Whalers blink than his own. Still, Daud was ready for him, and rounded with a backhanded strike the moment he materialized behind him. Corvo blocked it, and tried to sweep Daud’s legs out from under him, only to have Daud transverse away. 

It was so familiar, going blow for blow. He missed it, enjoyed it. Loved this dance they’d developed between them. Naturally, it didn’t take long for Corvo to get the upper hand, keeping Daud on his heels.

Finally, Daud got a breath of space between them, and let loose a blast of wind, only for Corvo to disappear before it could do so much as ruffle his hair. The bastard probably baited him into it. Before he could figure out where Corvo went, he felt himself being grabbed by an invisible force, and yanked backwards through the air. He came to a stop, the force releasing him, and Corvo’s arms wrapped around his waist, his face nuzzling against Daud’s neck. 

Daud chuckled, leaning into the embrace. “I’m pretty sure I know how to escape this hold,” he purred, tilting his head to allow for better access, threading his fingers through Corvo’s, as the man tightened his grip on his waist. 

“Yeah? Are you going to show me?”

“Maybe some other time,” Daud murmured, letting his eyes slide shut as he felt Corvo nibbling at his neck, sending a shiver through his body. For how many times people had tried to choke Daud to death, he was surprised how much he enjoyed Corvo touching his neck. Lips, hands, teeth, all of it. Or perhaps it was _because_ of those attacks that he enjoyed it so much. The thrill of something so potentially dangerous turned into something pleasurable. 

Eventually Corvo eased his mouth away, planting a final kiss on Daud’s neck, loosening his grip enough to allow Daud to turn in his arms. Their lips met, and it felt like the anxiety, the fear, the tension of all of their preparations melted away. Though eventually Daud pulled back, hearing footsteps approaching from below. Someone probably heard them, and was investigating the racket. Baz and Nadia’s awareness of their relationship notwithstanding, they were still keeping everything quiet. Brimsley and his staff certainly didn’t need to know their business, so Daud reluctantly pulled away. 

Corvo’s face was flush, pupils dilated, looking like something of a lustful mess. He ran a hand over his face, seemingly trying to shake some sense into himself. 

A few moments later, the Brimsley’s horse of a guard opened the door to the roof, his sword drawn. He spotted them and lowered it again with a quiet, “oh, it’s just you two.”

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to disturb anyone,” Corvo said. The guard shrugged, sheathing his sword. The poor man lived a life of constant paranoia before a bunch of fugitives began plotting in his boss’s house. Now it had only gotten worse. 

The man nodded and quietly excused himself, disappearing back down the stairs. Corvo sighed, running his hand over his hair. “We should probably head down. Try to get some rest.”

Daud nodded in agreement, and the two left for their rooms. They came to Daud’s door first, and before Corvo could finish attempting to awkwardly bid Daud goodnight, Daud grabbed him by the front of his shirt and hauled him inside. 

Daud kicked the door shut behind them, pulling Corvo into a kiss as he shuffled towards the bed. When they arrived, he pushed Corvo onto it with a playful shove, and crawled on top of him. Corvo’s desire was...evident. Had been since he’d held Daud on the roof. That notwithstanding, Daud had made up his mind.

He worked open Corvo’s shirt, their hands exploring as they had before. He loved the feel of Corvo’s rough, strong hands against his skin. The feel of Corvo’s firm body pressed against his. But this time Daud’s hands ran lower, hooking in the waistband of his pants. He slowly worked the top button loose. Corvo’s excitement almost made it difficult, the material of his pants pulled taught. When he worked the second button loose, Corvo broke away from their kiss. 

“Daud…” he breathed, his voice sounding thick. 

“Yes?” Daud purred, undoing the third button, as Corvo’s hands roamed to his ass, not exactly making a move to stop him.

“What are you doing?”

“You know exactly what I’m doing.”

“I thought you didn’t-” Corvo said, sucking in a hissing breath as Daud’s fingers brushed him.

“Not usually. Do you want me to stop?”

“No! I mean. If you don’t want to, I wouldn’t want you to…” Corvo said, a hand finally coming up to catch Daud’s face, looking him in the eyes, his brow furrowed with concern.

Daud smiled down at him. “I care about you. I know you want this, so let me give it to you…We don’t know what will happen tomorrow...I...”

“You don’t have to. I understand.”

“I don’t have to, but I want to.” 

Daud wrapped his hand around Corvo, finally silencing him. He enjoyed the small noises Corvo made, his gasping breath in his ear, his sloppy, needy kisses, and the way he clung almost desperately to Daud as he tumbled over the edge. He particularly enjoyed the way he relaxed after, tension easing out of him in a way Daud wasn’t sure he’d seen from the man before. He rolled over to nuzzle against Daud, content and pliant.

“Feels weird not returning the favor,” Corvo murmured once his breathing finally steadied. Daud chuckled.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, gently combing his fingers through Corvo’s hair, as the man’s eyelids grew heavy. 

“Should probably get some rest…”

“You’re right. Goodnight, Corvo,” Daud murmured. 

Slowly Corvo drifted off to sleep in Daud’s arms, though Daud couldn’t sleep quite yet. Didn’t want to sleep quite yet. Wanted to stay awake a little longer, enjoying having Corvo so close, feeling the quiet peace of the moment. Corvo was so warm, so firm and real as they lay pressed against each other. Eventually as he slept, Corvo rolled onto his back. Daud let his hand rest on Corvo’s chest, feeling the reassuring rise and fall as he breathed. All the while their quiet connection sat warm and reassuring in the back of his mind, seeming to pulse with his breath. 

Daud had never shared the bond with anyone he had a romantic interest in. It was far too fraught a thing to do, considering what it entailed, the details it would give Daud into their life, potentially violating their privacy even unintentionally. But it felt so good, made him feel so strangely whole. 

He wanted to savor it as long as he could, lying there with him, feeling his warmth, his breath, drinking in the handsome lines of his face in the dim moonlight. Because he knew full well they could lose everything tomorrow. But at least if this was his last night in the world, he couldn’t think of a better way to spend it.

* * *

Sweat rolled down Daud’s back as he watched, crouched motionless high above the battle, waiting for their opening. His stomach twisted into knots watching the chaos below.

Lizzy launched the opening volley with her expected level of panache: with a string of coarse profanity even by the standards of Dunwall’s underbelly, and hurling grenades at the front gate. Fluttering smudges of void rained hell on Delilah’s remaining clockwork soldiers, with sticky grenades and even precision attacks with swords against the mechanical monstrosities.

The low drone of the horrible “music” filled the air as soon as Delilah’s witches joined the fray, the rest of Lizzy’s troops emerging from the back lines, crippling the women while Daud’s bonded crew got out of dodge. 

Finally, the last of Delilah’s footmen joined the fray: her new palace “guard,” who seemed mostly comprised of Hatters in extremely shabby worn uniforms. Daud and Corvo exchanged glances, then quickly transversed to their entry point, climbing in a broken window. Naturally, Corvo knew Dunwall Tower like the back of his hand. And its weak points.

They could hear chaos inside the tower as well as out. Their attack force was leveling quite the offensive. Daud half wondered if they’d have been able to simply hack their way straight to Delilah with their force. But that would certainly end in blood, or at least far more blood than their current plan. He hated not being with them, by their sides, keeping them safe. But the best thing he could do to keep them safe was to end this quickly, by ending Delilah. 

The tower smelled like rot and death. Daud couldn’t quite believe how thoroughly destroyed the place was. It was almost worse than the squalor of the streets. It seemed like every piece of furniture was broken. While power to the palace remained functional, almost none of the lights worked. Years worth of filth and grime blanketed every surface. It seemed like every inch of wall had graffiti or shoddy paintings and drawings.

“What have they done to this place?” Corvo hissed through gritted teeth. Daud could see his white knuckle grip on his sword as he surveyed the damage, bristling like an enraged wolfhound. 

Daud could only shake his head. What was the point in staging a coup, and taking over Dunwall Tower, if Delilah used her station to continue to live in squalor? Even in Rudshore, living in homes without walls or roofs, the Whalers fixed things up the best they could to make it as livable as possible. It seemed Delilah and her minions took a place of luxury and strived to make it as unlivable as possible.

They quickly ducked into a side chamber as a group of witches ran by, accompanied by greenish, sickly looking grave hounds. Daud held his breath as they passed, praying the beasts wouldn’t catch their scent. Fortunately, after a few beats, the voices, and scrabbling paws all faded down the hall. Daud started back out the door, only to notice Corvo wasn’t with him.

He turned and found the man standing over the burnt out remains of a fire, naturally built in the center of the room, instead of in the fireplace, and fueled with broken furniture. Corvo was nudging at something in the ash with his foot, looking perturbed. Daud approached, and saw it. A bone that looked suspiciously like a human femur. 

“You don’t think they really…” Corvo murmured, looking around. The rest of the body was missing, so it’s not like they’d simply burnt a victim there. There were also plates and empty bottles scattered around the fire. 

“I wouldn’t be surprised…” Daud grumbled. “Let's move.”

Infiltration was almost too easy as panicked witches scrambled to aid their sisters in the fight at the entrances. None spared a breath to check around them to see if anyone was already inside.

They knew from Lizzy’s spies that the elevator was a lost cause, leaving the stairs as their only option. With the catch that the security shutters were in place. Luckily, Corvo was probably one of the few people in the entire Empire who knew where the secret, secondary security control was, assuming the witches hadn’t found it. 

The door to their destination hung off its hinges. Inside was a toppled desk, several shattered display cases, and a large bed, seemingly one of the only intact pieces of furniture left in the tower. Though, as if to make up for it, the blankets and sheets were filthy and stained. It was the Royal Protector’s chambers; Corvo’s former room. Daud couldn’t help but look around with curiosity. The place was...huge. 

Corvo strode directly to what was, as far as Daud could tell, an empty stretch of wall, the ubiquitous graffiti notwithstanding. He slammed the side of his fist against one of the wood panels and, to Daud’s surprise, it popped open, revealing a recessed compartment full of switches and buttons. None of them were labeled, but Corvo confidently flipped a couple of switches, and closed the panel. 

“That should open our path, assuming any of it is still working,” Corvo said, signaling for Daud to follow. 

They hurried quietly through the abandoned hallways. Though they could have been banging pots and pans the whole way without notice considering the racket coming from the great hall. Explosions and great rattling thuds kept slamming against the front doors. Daud could only imagine what was happening out there. Then he felt a chilling twinge in the back of his mind. He skidded to a stop with a gasp, two of the connections wavering.

“Shit!” he hissed, turning, looking, as if he could see them if he tried hard enough. He could still sense them at least, they weren’t dead. At least not yet…

“What is it?” Corvo snapped, returning to Daud’s side.

“Thomas and Baz are unconscious. I don’t know if they’re…” he trailed off. Had they been hit with a stun? Were they on the verge of bleeding out? He had no way of knowing.

“The others will take care of them, we have to move,” Corvo said, grabbing Daud’s arm and starting to run again. Daud followed, grinding his teeth, pushing the worries out of his mind, or trying to. Their best chance was if he and Corvo could end this battle quickly, by taking out Delilah. 

They skidded to a stop in front of a door, stacked high with furniture barricading it. Much of it seemed to have fallen into the doorway recently, probably when Corvo opened the security doors, but it still thoroughly blocked their path. 

Daud cursed, walking up to the haphazard stack. As loud as the chaos was downstairs, moving _this_ would draw attention. Not to mention slow them down immensely.

Corvo crouched down, eyeing it critically before he nodded. “We can fit.”

“Are you nuts? How in the void can we-” Daud started, and instead of answering Corvo just raised his hand and clenched his fist, several rats swarming out of nothing around their feet. Daud snapped his mouth shut, then sighed as Corvo disappeared in a wisp of smoke. “Right.”

It had been so long since Daud got new, completely novel powers, he wasn’t used to thinking outside of his usual box. He was almost a little embarrassed by how obvious the solution was. He took a breath before he stared down the rat.

He’d never get used to the way the world suddenly grew around him, and he found himself tiny, inches from the ground. He hastily scurried through the stacked furniture, following Corvo’s tail through the maze. The man, after all, had more experience being a rat. 

As soon as they reached the other side, Daud stepped out of the creature's body, gasping as if he’d been holding his breath the entire time. Honestly he wasn’t sure if he had been. They were facing a narrow, twisting set of stairs, something likely used by servants. Corvo appeared again next to him, and they headed up. 

It seemed their diversion worked: they didn’t meet a single witch on their way up to find Delilah. They emerged near the Empress’s former bedroom, and were confronted with a distinctly different scene than the destruction downstairs. Vines and plants grew out of the floor, the walls, entwining furniture and forcing their way out windows. Every inch of wall that wasn’t covered in plants seemed to be covered in paint, manic, slashing murals rendered in bold streaks of color. Some seemed to depict an idealized kingdom, loving subjects applauding, while others were so smeared and smudged and frantic, the shapes were unrecognizable. 

“She’s mad…” Corvo murmured as they crept their way forward. 

“You’re only now realizing that?” Daud spat back, drawing an annoyed glare from Corvo.

As they approached the throne room, Daud could feel the heart beating in his pocket, the pulses going from barely detectable to rapid and pounding as they moved. He reached for the disgusting artifact, grimacing at the leathery, yet squirming texture as he pulled it out.

_”Closer! Put me back! Then I will make you pay for what you did to me-”_ Delilah’s voice spat in his head. 

“She’s close,” Daud murmured.

“She must still be in the throne room…”

Of all the rooms they’d been in so far, the throne room had to be the most transformed. Several work tables stacked high with pigments and paints stood around the vine and plant filled hall. She’d seemingly created a loft off to the side, complete with a bed and resplendent bedding. In the center of it all sat a table, stacked with enough food for a feast, much of which was festering and rotten. 

Delilah stood with her back to the door, a half dozen grave hounds lying at her feet, staring at a painting that seemed to move. Figures swirled on the canvas, reality twitching around it. It almost looked like the streets below. The battle…

As they edged into the room, everything seemed to happen at once. Daud jumped as he heard the sudden beating of wings and frantic chirping. Near the door stood another table, with various taxidermy animals, and a single, tiny songbird in a small cage with golden bars. 

“Quiet, Sparrow, I am _busy,_ ” Delilah spat, glancing over her shoulder at the noisy bird. Daud felt Corvo stop time, reality going muffled and grinding to a halt, but just as soon as it began, it ended, making Daud’s stomach flip, as Delilah spun on them.

“You!” Delilah roared, the grave hounds all springing to attention.

“Do it, I’ll cover you!” Corvo said before disappearing in a blue flash. 

Daud followed his lead, traversing forward. He held out the heart, desperately hoping he knew what he was doing. Though it seemed as soon as the thing was exposed to Delilah, a yellow beam of light erupted from the twisted artifact. Delilah’s screams rang through the hall, seemingly both from the woman before him, and from the heart, mixed with the yelps and shrieks of grave hounds. Daud couldn’t see Corvo through the light, but was gratified to hear the horrible creatures falling to his blade.

The heart crumbled to ash in Daud’s hand, and he was sent reeling as the light abruptly vanished. 

“I should have known you were responsible for this,” Delilah screeched, lunging at Daud, not with a sword, but with her hands. He raised his sword to parry, and was startled when he made contact with a resounding clang. 

The skin of Delilah’s arms seemed to be made out of jagged rocks, like the uniform gray stone of the void, her fingers tipped with sharp spikes. In fact, her arms weren’t the only thing that had changed from how Daud remembered her, and how her many statues and banners depicted her.

She’d always been more than a touch wild eyed, but now her usually coifed hair was a mess, littered with twigs and leaves. Her skin had taken on a pallid gray-green hue more akin to her grave hounds than to a person. At first, he thought she was wearing some sort of floral necklace, but after a moment he realized, vines and branches seemed to literally be growing under her skin, leaves and blossoms erupting from her flesh like boils. 

The Outsider warned him she’d been going mad, toying with the powers she had been. But she was always a touch deranged, at least in Daud’s mind. But to see this? Now he truly understood what the Outsider meant.

Daud didn’t have time to wonder what had become of her, too busy parrying her furious attacks, already on his heels, reeling from returning her soul, while Delilah, if anything, seemed energized. Each jarring strike blocked with his sword enough to send painful jolts down his arm.

The unearthly howl of a grave hound rang through the space as Corvo finished off the last beast, and charged in for the attack. Delilah barely spared him a glance, and with the quick flick of her wrist, dozens of enormous, thick vines erupted out of the ground in a spray of dirt and rubble. One whipped out, wrapping around Corvo’s leg mid stride, and pulled.

The man fell hard to the ground. He scrabbled across the floor for purchase as the vine dragged him, before it surged, and hurled Corvo like a rag doll. Corvo slammed into one of Delilah’s tables, his sword clattering out of his grip as he hit hard enough to knock the heavy wooden table over, disappearing from sight as he tumbled to the other side.

“Corvo!” Daud called, a twinge of panic shooting through him. He felt the dreaded flicker in the bond at the back of his mind. Though he didn’t have time to feel out what exactly happened to the man, as Delilah pressed the attack.

Delilah laughed, a sinister, low noise. “Strange bedfellows. Though I should thank you, for bringing my statute back. But don’t expect to collect you reward,” she hissed, striking with her fingers like a blade, Daud narrowly dodging out of the way.

She growled in frustration and flourished her hand again. Daud felt the horrible eye twist and turn in his pocket. A furious grimace came over Delilah’s face as nothing happened. “I see you’ve brought all sorts of tricks with you,” Delilah spat, her voice carrying a wild, unnatural timber. When Daud parried yet another swipe with her claws, she grabbed his blade, laughing low in her chest as she yanked, trying to disarm him, or at least pull him off balance. Daud reached for his pistol, seeing an opening, only for Delilah to lock her other hand on his gun as well. 

Delilah cackled, pulling on Daud’s weapons, seeming to try to engage him in some contest of strength. But Daud had no intention of trying to win such a contest with a woman whose arms were made out of stone, so he chose a different option, and bashed his forehead into the witch’s face. 

Delilah howled in pain and rage, staggering back and releasing Daud’s weapons. He immediately transversed away, towards where he saw Corvo fall. He couldn’t see the man anywhere, but perhaps more importantly, he couldn’t spot his sword either.

He did not, however, have much time to look, as Delilah appeared before him again in a swirl of void, screeching with rage, twin trickles of blood running from her nose. Daud blinked back out of her range, only to have her sweep her hand wide, launching a volley of smoldering stakes at him. Daud cursed, pain searing through his left arm, forcing him to drop his pistol as she struck him. Delilah cackled in delight as she appeared before him again and pushed the attack.

Daud parried and staggered back, acutely aware of how dangerous his surroundings were, catching glimpses of moving vines out of his peripheral vision. He transversed away, only to find her on top of him immediately. He cursed, grinding through the pain in his arm and raised it, pushing forward, fingers spayed, the still foreign command rolling strangely smoothly off his tongue as his palm released a fierce burst of air, hoping to finally get some space between himself and the witch; but it did little more than rustle her clothes.

“I will make you pay for what you did to me, Daud,” Delilah growled, forcing Daud to hop back as he parried another attack, only to have her spare hand claw for his throat. Though as he did, Delilah’s eyes seemed to light up with delight. “Getting sloppy, Daud,” she practically purred, as suddenly Daud felt something cold and hard wrap around his throat.

Daud skidded across the floor, dragged by a vine wrapped around his neck. He clawed at the vine, bark flaking off under his fingernails as additional vines joined in, wrapping around him, pinning his arms to his sides and entangling his legs. In seconds, Daud found himself completely immobilized, as Delilah’s eyes sparkled with delight.

“You’re a mad witch,” Daud managed to hiss, before the vine around his throat squeezed tighter, silencing him. Panic surged through him as he fought in vain against the impossibly strong plants, the air slowly being choked out of him.

Delilah smiled broadly as she approached, stalking forward like some sort of feral hound. “I ought to make you suffer...but I’ll settle for ripping your heart out!” she said, raising one of her clawed hands, poised to strike. 

Time seemed to slow as Daud desperately fought for an escape. Even with Corvo’s new powers, he couldn’t figure a way out. The vines twisted painfully tight on his left hand, twined in his fingers, his bones starting to creak as the pressure slowly grew; he probably couldn’t even use his powers even if he could think of anything that would help. Delilah was right, he’d gotten sloppy. This was it.

Then a sword erupted from Delilah’s chest.

Delilah stood, wide eyed and stunned, her gaze sliding down to the blade protruding from her heart. She opened her mouth, almost like she wanted to protest, but instead of words she coughed weakly, blood pouring from her lips.

Corvo wrenched his blade to the side, Delilah twitching and jerking, before he withdrew the sword, and she crumbled to the ground. 

The vines holding Daud started to go slack as the life drained out of Delilah and onto the floor. Daud fell to his knees, coughing and gasping for air as Corvo stepped over Delilah’s body, and helped shuck the remaining vines off.

“You okay?” Corvo asked as he knelt next to Daud, putting a steadying hand on his shoulder.

Daud rubbed his neck, nodding. “Yeah, you?” he asked roughly, his throat burning. 

“I’m fine.”

Daud nodded, glancing down at Delilah’s motionless form, and the vines in the room which all seemed to be slowly withering away. Her dead eyes staring through them, faint a look of surprise still etched onto her face. “Took you long enough,” he said, his voice a weak rasp, even as he tried to laugh.

Corvo smiled. “Sorry, hit my head pretty good there. Took me a second to get my bearings. I’m glad you’re okay,” Corvo murmured, sliding his arm around Daud’s shoulders, leaning his forehead against Daud’s as the two caught their breath.

“I can’t believe we did it…” Daud wheezed, grabbing Corvo’s arm and giving it a squeeze. None of it felt real. If his arm and throat weren’t both in so much pain, he’d be worried this was some sort of dream. He cautiously watched Delilah’s corpse, half expecting it to get up and start moving at any second, but she didn’t. She remained still, dead, the magical plants she’d created slowly sagging and shriveling.

Finally given a moment to breathe, Daud did a quick mental inventory of his bonds. To his relief, everyone was still there. Though Thomas’s connection was still weak, Baz seemed back to normal. He could only hope Thomas’s injuries weren’t serious, and was cautiously optimistic considering Baz’s apparent recovery.

The quiet hiss of withering plants was suddenly punctuated by a metallic crash, and a distinctly human sounding squawk.

Corvo leapt to his feet, readying his sword as he whirled to face the sound, apparently just as on edge and paranoid as Daud. Daud sprang to his feet as well, scooping up his fallen blade. 

Where the birdcage once sat was now a broken and twisted mess of metal. On the ground before it, instead of a bird, sat a nude, startled, and disoriented young woman. She had black hair, a slender figure, and fine, regal features. 

A clang rang through the throne room as Corvo’s sword slipped from his hand. “ _Emily!_ ”

Corvo ran to his daughter, his legs carrying him across the space so quickly he might as well have blinked. He fell to his knees in front of her and threw her arms around her before she had a chance to even orient herself. 

“Father…?” Emily managed eventually, sounding weary, confused, but she soon threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. “You’re here…”

“I thought you were dead,” Corvo choked.

Daud approached cautiously, as if the situation hadn’t been surreal enough before. Part of his mind worried that this was one of Delilah’s tricks, one of her illusions the Outsider warned him about, but the eye in his pocket remained quiet. Then he remembered those disturbing masks. Emily without a mouth, gold bars covering her face, like the bars of her gilded cage. A bit more literal than he would have expected, but...it had to be her. Truly be her.

He was immensely grateful to see she was alive, happy for Corvo, who’s grief was like an eternal weight on his soul. But apprehension, guilt, and something like fear all started closing in on Daud. Emily was alive. And he had to be among the last people she wanted to see. Let alone while she was nude...

Daud averted his gaze, and turned his back to the pair entirely. He shrugged off his coat, gritting his teeth through the pain in his arm as he did. He tossed the coat at the pair; Corvo’s coat wasn’t long enough to do the job. 

“Here,” he murmured as he heard the coat land.

“Right, thanks,” Corvo said. He heard the rustling of fabric and quiet murmurs between the two. 

A fair while later Daud finally heard the sound of the pair rising, and Emily clearing her throat. “I must thank your friend, Father…” she said, as Daud winced.

“Uh, Emily-“ Corvo started, before Emily spoke over him as if she hadn’t even heard it.

“You may turn around,” she said. Daud sighed, if only modesty were the only reason he didn’t want to face her…

Reluctantly, Daud turned to the young empress. His coat, thankfully, did cover her entirely, if only barely. Though, despite her unfortunate state of dress, she still managed to look almost stately as she stared him down. Must have gotten that from her mother.

“Emily, I can explain-” Corvo cut in as recognition dawned in her eyes. She turned a stare on her father that stole the words from his throat, and made him sag. A glint of fury shown in her eyes that said she’d seen _everything_ before she turned back.

“Later. Not here. Not now,” Emily said to Corvo, who looked something akin to crushed, before turning back to Daud. “Megan recruited you, didn’t she?” 

Daud nodded, familiar with Billie’s alias. “She did.”

Emily strode forward, studying Daud with a piercing gaze. “How much are you being paid?” She asked, her lips curling into a disgusted sneer.

“Nothing,” Daud replied.

“Then why.”

“It was the right thing to do.”

Emily stared at him, skeptical, though other than that kept her face schooled into an unreadable mask. 

“You killed my mother.”

“Yes.”

“For money?”

“Yes.”

“Emily-” Corvo tried in vain to interject, but she just held up a hand to quiet him. Daughter or not, she seemed to be acting as an Empress right now.

“Do you regret it?”

“Yes,” Daud said, his tone frank. He could tell her how much he regretted it, how it haunted him, how his world fell apart as soon as the blade entered her mother’s chest. But he knew that wasn’t what she was looking for, not here, not now. 

Emily took a deep breath, studying him, like she was trying to decide whether she believed him or not. She drew closer, standing face to face with her mother’s killer. There was an intensity in her eyes that reminded him of Corvo. Her eyes seemed to harden, as she came to a decision.

Daud saw the slap coming. Expected it, _deserved_ it even. What he didn’t expect was how strong the Empress’s arm was. She struck him with a resounding crack, hitting so hard, had it been a fist Daud didn’t doubt he’d be on the floor, possibly out cold. He managed to remain standing, but couldn’t chase the surprise from his face as he reeled at the blow, blinking in astonishment. She was definitely Corvo’s daughter alright…

He saw a faint hint of smug amusement flicker in Emily’s eyes, no doubt in reaction to the look on his face, and the hand that half consciously raised to his stinging cheek. 

“ _Emily,_ ” Corvo said, gently grabbing her arm like he half expected her to hit him again. She smiled faintly at him, but let herself be eased away.

“The attack force is with you two?” Emily asked, Daud simply nodded. “Go tell them what happened.”

“And bring-” Corvo started, before Emily turned a _look_ on him, “-send someone with clothes,” he corrected.

“Very well,” Daud acknowledged, offering Emily a bow. He looked to Corvo, who had his gaze transfixed on his daughter, though how much of it was out of fatherly concern, and how much of it was to avoid looking at Daud was hard to say.

Daud blinked away, wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. Once he was out of earshot, and before he was anywhere near the Eels and the others he stopped, leaning against a wall to steady himself. As happy as he was for Corvo, a strange sense of mourning washed over him. Everything had worked out better than they ever could have imagined, and nothing would be the same.

* * *

The Eels made quick work of the witches once they lost their powers. It seemed their connection to the void severed the moment Delilah died. Daud had no trouble making his way down to the front gates, where celebrations were already starting to take place.

“Daud! You must’ve got her! Where’s Corvo?” Baz asked as he literally appeared in front of Daud, his expression immediately going from excited to alarmed and worried. He didn’t look particularly worse for wear, aside from being covered in smudges of soot and a trickle of blood running from his forehead. Daud was relieved.

He held up a hand to stave off any panic as Nadia and Billie also appeared. “Corvo’s fine. Emily’s alive,” Daud managed, his voice rougher than usual. Delilah’s vines had really done a number on his throat.

“She is?” Billie asked eagerly, sounding surprised. Daud nodded mechanically.

“Delilah turned her into a bird, had her in a cage.”

Billie nodded, a sincere smile finding its way to her lips. “I’m glad she’s okay…” she said, as Nadia gave her a congratulatory hug.

“How’s Thomas?” Daud asked, glancing around. 

“How’d you…?” Baz started, but decided it was a dumb question, and shook his head. “Took a bit of a knock to the head when we finished off one of the clockworks. Rulfio’s with him. Still figurin’ out casualties. A few Eels got hurt pretty bad, at least one’s dead. Not sure what else. Group of ‘em left with Theo to go liberate Coldridge. Lotta folks in there who don’t deserve it. And rumor has it the witches locked some Overseers in there when they turned back from bein’ stone. Probably the same time Corvo got loose.”

Daud nodded, taking it all in. He wasn’t happy to hear the Eels had casualties, but it would have been naive to even hope they wouldn’t. So far only one confirmed death was actually fantastic news.

Then Daud remembered his task, turning to Nadia. “The Empress needs a...uh. Change of clothes. Urgently. You think you could arrange that?”

Nadia grinned. “The Empress can have shirt off my back and the pants off my ass if she needs.” 

Daud ran a hand down his face while Billie chuckled. “That’s one solution I guess…”

Daud settled in, helping with the casualties, and dealing with the captured witches. The group that branched off to Coldridge came back within an hour, a surprisingly large number of exceedingly worse for wear and thin prisoners in tow. Many wore mangled and threadbare Overseer uniforms, while still more had Watch uniforms, or were even servants. It seemed not everyone perceived as “loyal to Emily” had been summarily executed. Some were shuffled away to prison to be tormented and starved.

In the end, there were five deaths, and numerous injuries ranging from limbs in need of amputation to scrapes and bruises.

Eventually, the city loudspeakers crackled to life. A hush fell over everyone as Emily addressed the city. Her voice sounded tired and rough, but her tone carried a firm resolve. She promised to put the city back together. Promised to help everyone heal. Promised things would be different moving forward. 

Daud could only hope she would be able to make good on her promises. For her own sake, for Corvo’s. He could only hope there were still enough people alive in the capitol who were willing to throw their loyalty to her back again. 

A few days later Daud found himself again standing in front of a rich man’s mirror, examining his bruises. He had a good bruise from when Emily slapped him. And even worse marks around his neck from the choking vines. Baz grimace when he saw it, describing it as the “worlds worst hickey,” probably trying to raise Daud’s spirts. 

In the days after Delilah’s fall, the Eels essentially found themselves honorary members of the Tower Guard, and most of Daud’s crew found themselves honorary members of the Eels. But Emily made it _quite_ clear, she didn’t want Daud anywhere near the Tower. So he obliged, and made himself scarce. He was, after all, still wanted for the murder of Emily’s mother. Regardless of her or Corvo’s feelings, it would be far too much explaining for either to deal with at such a delicate time. Not to mention, Daud got the distinct impression Emily was not of a particularly forgiving mindset on the matter.

Once again Daud found himself outside of the action looking in, desperately wanting to help, but instead had to sit idly by while his friends put themselves at risk. And the part that stung worst about it all, was it was his own damn fault. He brought this on himself. It was nothing short of what he deserved. 

Slowly, steadily, as days turned into weeks, nobles, industrialists, and soldiers turned defectors returned to the Tower, offering Emily their loyalty. The city was desperate for stability, desperate to be out from under the yolk of Delilah’s terror, they welcomed Emily back with open arms, even if Delilah had drained the royal coffers.

The entire time, Daud caught barely more than a glimpse of Corvo. The man was, naturally, glued to Emily’s side.

Once again they had a dead Empress, and Emily on the throne. Once again Dunwall was slowly putting itself back together. And once again Daud found himself banished. When finally it seemed they were no longer useful, Daud and the villagers found themselves back on the Dreadful Wale.

Daud watched as Dunwall faded into the distance from the bridge of the ship. He could feel his connection to Corvo, settled in the back of his mind with the others. Knew that over time it would fade and vanish like it had with the others before. His heart ached. He wanted to reach out through the void, and pull Corvo to him. See him one last time. But he was with Emily now. They had more important things to worry about than a few fugitives. If Corvo had wanted to see him, it would have been simple to send a message. Plenty of the Eels and even villagers and other Whalers had stuck around until not long before they finally decided to depart.

So he let the city fade into the distance, without so much as a goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Yall know the second Nadia saw Canoodling she told Baz within 45 seconds  
> -Plot Twist, Emily, ALIVE? Who could have predicted?! Other than like literally all of you hahaha <3  
> -ALMOST DONE. It's been a ride, thank you all for the support :D


	10. Sunset

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW:** Aftermath of self harm. Implied aborted suicide attempt. Again, neither of our main boys. No prizes for guessing which villager...

Life on the island was the same as it ever was. Days turned into weeks, which slowly ground into months.

Daud found himself seated on his usual secluded ledge, watching the sea as the sun sank below the horizon, setting the sky ablaze in painted pinks and oranges. He couldn’t deny its beauty, but he felt almost numb inside. 

He’d spent a lot of time reflecting lately. Found himself wondering what he’d done with his life. It was strange to see his own reflection in the mirror, hair seemingly growing grayer by the day. He never expected to make it this long. Watching himself turn into an old man was strange. 

He only ever felt his age in his bones from time to time, never in his spirit. But lately the way the years weighed down on him... He found questions drifting through his mind. Unpleasant questions. Like why he was still alive. After he cut so many lives short, why was he allowed to go on? Or was growing old secretly his punishment for all he’d done. What was he still doing here?

On top of it all, he almost felt like he was searching for something, waiting. There was an unrest that curled in his gut day after day telling him he needed to act, do something, but Void knew what. 

Baz appeared next to him, plopping down on the stone without preamble.

“Never should have given you those powers,” Daud grumbled, though they both knew he didn’t mean it, he’d said it so often it was a running joke between them by now.

“Well, too late now, isn’t it?” Baz said with a smile, before he paused, thinking it over. “Is it? Guess I’m not sure you can take them away or not. I mean. ‘Long as I hang around.”

“That’s between me and the Outsider.”

“Meanin’ you don’t know.”

“I assume it’s possible...just never really tried.”

He could feel Baz studying him, but kept his gaze out on the horizon. 

“You okay? I mean, the answer’s no, but seems rude to just come out and say it like that,” Baz said finally. Daud couldn’t help but crack a smile, though it soon faded as he thought over Baz’s question.

“I spent...so many years on the run. Could never stay in one place for too long. It got easier the more time passed, but someone would always recognize me eventually. I could never get too comfortable. Could never really have friends, have real conversations with anyone. But there were always ways to stay occupied...always more to learn. Like that Dunwall may be gray and miserable but Tyvia is a whole different kind of cold. The snow is beautiful, but the dark in winter…” he trailed off with a sigh. “Then Delilah’s coup happened, and I could barely show my face in the light of day again. Until I landed here. And I had a home. But after everything, after Delilah…”

“After Corvo?” Baz filled in, Daud nodded reluctantly. Corvo was a part of it, no question, but Daud took comfort in their connection, knowing he was still in Dunwall, supporting his daughter. Daud was truly happy for him, that Emily was alive. They could only hope Corvo and Emily would do good things for the Empire together. But it didn’t stop the loneliness from settling into the pit of his stomach. The precious few nights they spent together lingered with him. He wished they’d had more time.

He felt guilty for the strangely restless melancholy that seemed to slowly be consuming him. As if the loss of Corvo had somehow ruined the island. But that wasn’t it at all, Corvo’s absence was only salt in the wound.

“Yeah. After all of that. It just…” 

“Feels different.”

Daud nodded. “It’s not just Corvo. It’s...Everything.”

“Yeah, I feel it too. When we got back, I was so damn glad to see Kell and everyone again, didn’t notice it at first. Then the excitement wore off, wasn’t spending every night tellin’ the stories and just got to set back into work. Patchin’ roofs. Helpin’ pull weeds. Puttin’ together a new batch of somethin’. Just...my heart wasn’t in it anymore. It felt like after all of that, what was the point anymore, you know? Have the entire Empire out there tryin’ to put itself back together, and I’m sitting around here tryin’ to figure out how many plantains I can try and turn into ‘shine without Kell noticing I swiped ‘em.”

Daud smirked. “So. How many were you able to swipe?”

“None. The woman caught me immediately.”

Daud snorted a laugh, as Baz sighed, stretching his legs out over the ledge. 

“Got a home here. Got family here. Shit, I love Kell, Nadia, you,” Baz said with a smirk, nudging Daud’s arm. “Even Theo, Margie, everyone...okay most everyone. But...none of us really want to be here. Maybe be with each other, but we’re in exile. It’s not the same. To think we didn’t even know how bad the outside’d gotten. And shit, meetin’ new people, seein’ new places. I miss it. I’d almost forgotten how much I missed it. 

“This place is just the same. But I’m not.”

Daud sighed, he couldn’t agree more. He never could have imagined how monumentous a change in his life those strange several weeks ultimately wrought. 

There was peace in the village. Safety. Family, even. It was a quiet place to settle in, and slowly fade away. 

“The Outsider was right, this is a place for the lost and forgotten…” Daud muttered, as Baz raised a brow. Even he knew Daud giving the Outsider credit for anything was a rarity. “I wanted to fade away here. But now it’s hard to imagine being content growing leggy tobacco and brewing tinctures for geriatrics. Somewhere where the highlight of the entire month is an upsettingly large jellyfish washing up on the beach.”

“You gotta admit though, that was a _really big_ jellyfish…” Baz chuckled. And he was right, it was in fact the largest Daud ever had the misfortune of seeing. “But I get it. I really do…”

They fell into silence, the sound of the waves and a few shrill seagulls seeming to put a point on their isolation. 

“You think things will change? Around here, I mean,” Baz finally said.

“Void knows. The empire has to change. But I don’t know what that will mean for us, if anything...Wouldn’t be surprised if the petty criminals and debtors were able to get off the island.”

Baz frowned, his brow furrowed. “Still no word from Corvo?” he asked almost hesitantly. Daud shook his head. Baz grunted, his frown turning to a scowl. “Well shit. That’s some gratitude for ya,” he huffed.

Daud shrugged. “He got his daughter back. I’m sure he’s...preoccupied.”

“I know, I know. But it’s been a while! Guy has to have had some time to pen a few words. ‘Sorry guys, busy, talk later. By the way thanks for taking care of me and everything for months. Oh, and helping stage a coup for my daughter I guess,’” Baz grumbled in a halfhearted impression of Corvo. His gaze slid over to Daud, his expression falling further, his entire body slumping. “Sorry. Suppose it’s worse for you.”

“I was glad I was able to help.”

Baz scoffed. “You deserve better than that.”

Daud shook his head, a faint smile cracking his lips, thinking of Billie’s words. “We all did.”

* * *

The days continued to trickle by. And it didn’t get any easier. 

One evening Daud found himself laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Rain pounded on the roof. It reminded him of when he first arrived, only without Sybil screaming in pain a few doors down. But he felt just as isolated and alone. 

That morning he woke to find Corvo’s presence gone from the back of his mind. He’d vainly hoped that because Corvo was marked too, their connection would stay, but he’d felt it slowly weakening and waning. It was only a matter of time before it faded out entirely. He felt ridiculous blinking the tears out of his eyes. He’d lost Corvo months ago, the connection disappearing shouldn’t have made a difference, but it did.

His thoughts were interrupted by someone knocking on his door. Daud heaved himself out of bed, still fully clothed, and answered. He found Theo standing in the hall, soaking wet and shaking, clutching his left arm to his chest. Daud raised a brow when watered down blood dripped onto the floor.

“I-I hurt my arm…” Theo managed to spit out. Daud nodded him in, and stepped aside. He gestured for Theo to sit as he grabbed his supplies. 

Theo had wrapped a shirt around his arm in lieu of a bandage. As Daud unwrapped it, he slowly grew alarmed at the quantity of blood. He ended up applying a tourniquet to the arm before he finished, just in case.

With the cloth removed, he saw the wound. A straight cut running up his arm. Another straight cut in a sea of scars on the man’s flesh. They both knew what Theo had been doing.

Daud set his jaw as he began to clean and stitch up the wound. Theo was still shaking, his right hand clenched below the tourniquet, as if to make sure no more blood escaped. Tears began sliding down his face as Daud worked, his shoulders shaking in silent sobs, as he screwed up his face and bit his lip to stay silent.

“I don’t...I don’t want to die,” Theo said meekly after a spell, his voice choked with tears.

“That’s good,” Daud said evenly. “You’ve lost enough blood you’ll probably be a bit light headed. Might want to take it easy for a few days. But you’ll survive.” Daud continued methodically piercing the needle through Theo’s flesh, pulling his wound closed. If only repairing the real cause was so simple as a needle and some surgical thread. If only it was that simple for all of them.

“That’s good…” Theo managed, his voice choked. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m glad you changed your mind. The others would be too, if they knew,” Daud said, still focused on his work. Only a few more stitches to go.

Theo sniffled, taking a few steadying breaths before he tried to choke out words. “You won’t tell them, will you?”

“Not if you don’t want me to. But I know Kell’s worried about you. She’ll notice your bandage. She’ll ask.”

Theo nodded, taking a shaky breath. “The joys of living in a small town, right?” Theo said with the least sincere possible smile, tears still wetting his cheeks, while Daud simply nodded in response. “I’m stupid. I know. I’m sorry…”

“Don’t need to apologize.”

“I-I used to be part of something. As an Overseer. P-people see the masks, and think they rob us of identity. W-which, they do. It’s the Church of the Everyman. We’re not individuals. But...but you become part of a greater whole, something more than yourself. I miss it. S-seeing my brothers. I should have been with them. Fighting alongside them.”

“You saved a bunch from Coldridge.”

“And they all saw my brand...I didn’t even…” Theo choked on his words, giving up. He paused, taking a steadying breath. “D-do you think you would have become a killer? If...if the Outsider hadn’t marked you?”

Daud shrugged, reaching the end of the wound, working a somewhat clumsy knot. He was out of practice. “I had blood on my hands before he ever marked me. But I doubt I would have had...quite so much on my hands if he hadn’t. Still, my choices were my own.”

Theo shook his head. “I didn’t have a choice. It just. Happens. When I sleep...the whale bone...And I was exiled for it. What kind of justice is that?”

“The shit kind.”

Theo snorted as Daud rummaged through his supplies, ordering Theo to stay put. “We did the right thing though, right? With Delilah, and Emily…”

Daud nodded. “Who knows. Though even if Emily turns into a tyrant, it’s hard to imagine her being worse than Delilah.” He sat back down next to Theo. “Move your fingers for me, one at a time.” Theo did, and Daud nodded with satisfaction. “Good.” 

Daud started dabbing salve along the wound, as Theo winced. He forgot to warn him it might sting a little. 

“You know...Kell’s been worried about you, too. So’s Baz,” Theo said.

“I know.”

“I know how much you’ve been drinking. So does Baz. I’m pretty sure his last batch didn’t actually go bad.”

“I think between the two of us, you’re the one we should be worried about right now,” Daud grumbled.

Theo sighed, but he was right. This wasn’t the first time Daud spent all day in bed lately. All too often he found it difficult to drag himself out of bed in the morning. Sometimes he didn’t succeed at all. Sometimes it seemed he’d stay in bed without thinking at all. Numb. Still others he was too hungover to get up. Though that hadn’t happened lately, given Baz’s latest “bad batches.” But Daud knew why the alcohol really dried up.

All the while guilt nagged at him. About everything he’d done, and then on top of it all, about his own bleak mood. He knew the others worried about him. They were family to him, being so miserable must have made it seem like he thought they weren’t good enough. 

He started wrapping clean bandages around Theo’s arm. At least he could still be useful here.

“All patched up. You’ll need to refresh your bandages tomorrow.”

Theo nodded, getting to his feet, and heading for the door without another word. Though Daud caught him by the shoulder before he could leave.

“Seriously, Theo. Are you going to be okay?”

The man nodded stiffly. “I think so.”

Daud sighed, that was probably as good as he was going to get. 

Theo was okay. Kell did ask. Needled Daud about it, in fact, when Theo wouldn’t tell her. Daud didn’t crack, though eventually Theo did. She hugged him so hard it was a small wonder she didn’t suffocate him.

* * *

Daud, Baz, Nadia and the others shuffled out to their usual hiding spot in the woods. This time an unfamiliar ship had pulled into port. The group barely had time to start taking bets on why the ship was stopping by and get out the dice when Kell herself wandered up. She eyed them all with furrowed brows, her arms folded.

“The man from the ship. Says the Empress sent him. He...knows you’re all here. Wants to speak with you all. Everyone,” Kell explained haltingly. They all exchanged glances.

Hopefully by the Empress they really meant Corvo. But they hadn’t heard a single peep out of either of them in close to a year. They’d all bug given up hope they ever would.

Somewhat reluctantly they all shuffled out to the shore. It seemed the man who wanted to speak with them didn’t particularly want to go into the inn, or get any closer to the rabble than he had to. He was a finely dressed, slender, tall man, who eyed everyone with a vague look of distaste and resignation. Men in Tower guard uniforms flanked him, but they didn’t quite seem right. They looked more like salty sea dogs than proper Tower guards, but the obviously twitchy official seemed at ease with them, if not at ease with the entire situation. 

The official did a head count under his breath as they gathered, and eventually nodded. “Is this everyone? Well. Close enough at least,” he said, half to himself as he unfolded a document, looking over the gathered villagers one last time. He cleared his throat, before he began to read. 

“By order of the Empress Emily Drexel Lela Kaldwin, the First of Her Name, due to new information, time served, and or service to the crown, the following individuals, are to receive full pardons…”

A communal gasp went up among the villagers as he started to read names off the list. Kell let out a near hysterical sob as the man read her name, falling to her knees in the sand, her youngest daughter crouching down next to her, beaming, as tears streamed down her face. Baz and several other villagers swarmed her in congratulatory hugs, the group growing more and more celebratory and raucous as it became clear that each and every one of them was receiving a full pardon.

As the list went on, Baz’s name was called, or rather Basil. Daud made a mental note to make fun of him for that eventually. Though before he could really reflect on it, he heard the official’s voice falter before he called Daud’s name, as he eyed him over the edge of the parchment. Daud stared on in dumbfounded silence, too stunned to even react. He assumed he would be the exception, how could Emily _pardon_ him?

Daud couldn’t spend much time in motionless shock before Baz turned his congratulatory hugging on him, grabbing him in a crushing bear hug. Still, Daud was too stunned to even fight him off. A _pardon?_ A _full pardon?_

He had never once even considered the possibility, at least not for himself. Corvo owed them, especially those with pettier crimes to their names, a pardon would be a plausible thing for Corvo to facilitate. But Daud? Politically it seemed impossible. Besides, even if Corvo moved past Daud’s crimes, Emily had no reason to.

What did this mean? What did it mean for Daud? What did it mean for everyone on the island? Kell fondly referred to the place as their self imposed prison colony. And now they were free. What would they all do? Daud had been a wanted man for the majority of his life. Arguably he’d been on the run since he was a child; his mother didn’t exactly lead a fully legal life. There were a few brief times when he fled far enough the law forgot him, but not in the last thirty years at least.

What did it even mean to live as a free citizen? So, he could walk down the street without worrying that someone would rat him out. But what was he supposed to do? Move to the city and get a job? Doing what? Who in the Empire would possibly hire him? Why was the notion that he was finally really a free man somehow more daunting than a continued life in exile?

The man came to the end of his list of felons, and listed off the debtors, announcing their debts waved by the crown, and stating that anyone wishing to collect against them were to petition the Empress. Lastly, he expressed his apologies on behalf of the Empress if any names had been missed, and implored them to speak with him before he departed if they had.

The official cleared his voice pointedly as the ruckus among the celebrating villagers grew to a fevered pitch. “I have a few more items of business, _thank you_ ,” he said haughtily. He opened a satchel at his side, and withdrew a letter. He looked it over before clearing his throat again. “I have a missive from the Empress for one Amelia Sullivan…”

“M-me?” the harpist squeaked, stepping forward, looking paler than usual. The official shrugged and handed her the letter before diving back into his satchel. He handed out a couple more, before a scowl came over his face. He pulled out a parcel, looking down at it, then up at Daud.

“The Empress desired I transport this to you…” he said with a faint hint of disgust. Daud blinked, approaching the paper wrapped parcel hesitantly.

“What is it?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Daud took a step back with a frown, cautiously unwrapping the parcel, surprised to find a coat inside. It took him a moment to realize, it wasn’t just any coat, it was _his_ coat. The one he gave to the Empress to cover up with. It was pristinely laundered and expertly mended. He eyed the shoulder with surprise, where Delilah’s smoldering thorn had torn through the fabric and his flesh – that that wound still caused him grief from time to time – showed almost no sign of damage. They’d managed to reweave it so close to perfectly, it would be impossible to spot without searching for it.

There was no note to go with the garment. No explanation. Just his own coat returned to him, cleaned and mended. It seemed an almost mysterious gesture, but it told Daud everything he needed to know.

She could never thank him, or likely ever forgive him. She certainly didn’t want his coat around to remind her of him. She could have just destroyed it, given it to beggars, any number of things. But she returned it. They were even. And she never wanted to even think of him again. 

“I have a missive for Miss Kell Shalestrom,” the official said, pulling out a letter with a slightly different looking seal

Kell’s eyes grew wide as she took it, then a great smile split her face once she popped it open. “Corvo! Son of a bitch finally wrote!” Kell cackled, drawing a positively incensed look from the official, though he didn’t seem in the mood to dignify her outburst with a response besides the glare.

He continued to dig into his satchel, pulling out more letters from Corvo. One for Baz, a couple for Corvo’s assorted fishing friends, then once again, a look of disgust once again fell over his features as he revealed a missive for Daud.

“And another for you…” he grumbled, handing the letter over. 

Daud’s heart pounded in his chest as he reached for it. He expected it, indeed not only would he have hurt, but positively livid if Corvo _hadn’t_ sent him a letter. But expecting it or not, Daud had no idea what it could say. 

Daud gave the official a curt nod as he stepped away, looking down at the envelope. Unlike the coat, he had no intention of opening it here.

Eventually the official ran out of mail and announcements. Kell started trying to badger the official into joining them for a celebratory meal at the inn. He firmly, and not especially politely declined. Everyone started cajoling him, inviting his guards as well, who looked downright amused, and started teasingly urging him to lighten up.

Daud didn’t see the outcome. He slipped away. He had a letter to read.

* * *

Officials shuffled out of the duke’s mansion, signaling the end of their official meeting. About damn time. Daud was getting sick of waiting, sitting on a blistering rooftop baking in the late afternoon heat of the Serkonan sun.

Daud blinked up to his target window, and scowled when he found it locked, as he perched precariously on the sill. He pulled out his knife and slid the blade between the windows, and wiggled the latch free. He checked that no one down on the street had noticed him before he pushed his way in, the window letting out a disgruntled honk as he did. 

He looked around the well appointed office, vaguely annoyed to find it empty. Seemed he had no choice but to wait. Daud walked over to the desk, poking around at the surprisingly neat piles of papers, and noticed a small silver blade. He picked it up; it was a letter opener, fashioned like a tiny ornate sword, with a surprisingly sharp edge. Daud smirked, turning it over in his hand as he sat on the desk.

Daud set about using the letter opener to clean his nails as he waited, it’s not like he had anything better to do.

A few minutes later, the door opened. A finely dressed man with a gray streak in his hair and a veritable stack of papers and ledgers stepped in. He glanced up as he awkwardly tried to put his key back in his pocket with his arms full, and spotted Daud. He let out a startled gasp, his piles of documents slipping from his grasp and crashing to the ground, fluttering everywhere.

Daud raised a brow. “Dropped something.”

The man let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand down his face, standing in the epicenter of his mess. 

“How many times do I need to tell you to stop coming in through the window?” he snapped. This wasn’t exactly the first time Daud and the man, Roderic, had this discussion. And he doubted it would be the last. “I thought I locked it.”

“You did, but I fixed that. And would you prefer I came in through the front door?” Daud asked, pointing at him with the letter opener. 

Roderic wrinkled his nose, scowling. “I suppose not.”

“Why are you here, anyway?”

“I was just delivering a few things for the Duke,” he said, squatting down to begin gathering up his mess. 

“Yeah? Where is, _the Duke?_ ”

“He has some affairs of state to deal with.”

“And he was supposed to be done with those affairs by now.”

“Yes, well, they ran long.”

“Better not run too long, or Kell’s gonna lodge her foot in his ass if he misses the opening.”

“I still don’t believe it’s...proper for the Duke to attend some random, low-brow bar opening,” the man huffed.

“Wasn’t that part of his shtick though? Man of the people? Besides, Kell said to invite you too, for some reason,” Daud grumbled as he hopped off the desk and decided to help the poor bastard with his paper mess.

“Did she now…” Roderic said, a distinct spark of interest in his eyes as he tried to sound aloof and disinterested. After a minute of silence cleaning up papers, the man paused as he picked up a letter. “Ah, almost forgot, this came in for you…” he said holding it out to Daud, who set aside his pile to grab it.

“Excellent. I was wondering when she’d get back to me.”

“You really must stop having your correspondence sent here,” Roderic huffed.

Daud snorted, returning to the desk to retrieve the letter opener again. “If I had it sent to my home it would be far too easy to find out who I was.”

“Void forbid Dr. Lianna find out who her pen pal is,” Roderic said with a sarcastic eye roll.

“I can’t imagine she’d be too happy about it, no,” Daud said as he sat on the desk to read his letter. It truly was a bizarre “pen pal” he’d found himself with. Not long after he moved to Karnaca, he read a paper published by the doctor regarding trying to have emergency surgeries for child delivery, like the one Daud used on Kell’s daughter, more widely studied and available. 

There was apparently pushback within the academic community insisting such a surgery was too complex and too risky, and could cause more deaths than it would prevent. So Daud had semi-anonymously contacted the doctor to relay his experience. He felt his anecdote in such wildly sub-optimal conditions went a ways towards disproving the other’s concerns, though it was hard to determine how large a role his bone charm played. She wrote him back, eager for more details, and from there a correspondence began. Albeit not with Daud’s true identity. 

“Don’t sit on the desk, the chair is _right there,_ ” Roderic scolded.

“Are you this bossy with Corvo?” Daud grumbled.

Roderic pressed his lips into a thin line, narrowing his eyes at Daud. “The Duke appreciates my input.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t.”

“Void, it’s like you were raised in a barn.”

“More like a gutter,” Daud said with a smirk. 

As much shit as Daud gave the man, he did begrudgingly like Roderic. When Corvo came to Karnaca to assume the role of Duke, he interviewed dozens of assistants. Apparently one of his strategies was to offer up a long series of dubious to extremely terrible ideas about how he wanted to govern the isle, and get their input. Out of dozens of candidates, Roderic was the only one who was willing to call out the ideas that were bad instead of playing the role of yes-man. In fact, he became so horrified by some of Corvo’s suggestions, he stormed out of the interview, refusing to work with “yet another tyrant.” Corvo had to chase him down the hall to offer him the job.

“You two, play nice…” Corvo said as the door swung open. He stepped inside, only to tread on one of Roderic’s papers. He picked it up and handed it to the man with muttered apologies. Roderic snatched it from his fingers with a huff. 

“You tell _that_ one to stop sneaking in through the window,” Roderic said as he finished gathering up the last of his papers, depositing them on the desk with a dramatic thump. 

“Would you rather he came in the front door?” Corvo asked, causing Roderic to do a double take, before he pressed his lips into a fine line, as Daud snorted a laugh. 

“No. I suppose not. If you’ll excuse me, Sir...” Roderic muttered, before beating a hasty retreat. 

Corvo shook his head with a smile, walking up to the desk. “Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise,” he said. He placed his hands on Daud’s legs, edging them apart, so he could nestle himself between his knees, getting as close as possible. He ran his fingers through Daud’s hair, before leaning in for a gentle kiss. Daud hummed contentedly against his lips.

“Surprise?” Daud purred. “So you did forget about the opening.”

Corvo stared at him for a moment, before it dawned on him, his shoulders sagging. “That’s this evening? Shit…” he muttered running a hand down his face. “I have so much work I need to do…”

“Kell will kill you if you don’t show,” Daud pointed out. Corvo leaned his head against Daud’s shoulder with a pathetic groan in response. 

“Mind telling her I’ll be a bit late? I’ll be there though, I swear…” Corvo said after a spell, finally pulling away.

“Sure, don’t be too late though. Baz is opening it up to the public at midnight,” Daud said, tracing his fingers along Corvo’s hairline. He was so damn handsome, even if he did look worn down and tired. 

Daud still couldn’t quite believe he was romantically involved, not simply with Corvo, but now a duke. The very species of highborn he spent so much of his life hunting. Though technically, Corvo wasn’t highborn. And he was making a concerted effort to be a different kind of ruler. Consulting others to find a way to set Serkonos up so that it couldn’t fall to a despot again in the future. 

Daud hoped his own involvement could help. While he was no great political philosopher–clearly–he has a knack for making connections with those who...thought differently about the world. And what it could be. Many of whom were brighter than either Daud or Corvo when it came to affairs of state.

“By the way, the silver miners union wants another audience,” Daud said with a smirk.

Corvo sighed. “Of course they do. They’ll have to wait their turn though. I have several whaling corporations crawling down my throat. Seems the whales around the southern coast of Serkonos have taken to bashing in the rudders of whaling ships…” Corvo said almost sheepishly, with a wince. Daud’s brows shot up.

“Isn’t that how you got that one whale to disable the ship that came after us?”

“Yes.”

“So. You taught the whales how to defend themselves.”

“It appears so…”

“And what do the whalers expect you to do about it?”

Corvo shrugged, shaking his head. “Void only knows. We’ve been pushing for more air power anyway, I’m not too concerned about the whales accelerating matters.” Corvo sat heavily in his chair, his eyes drifting to the stack of papers Roderic delivered, even as his hand lingered on Daud’s leg. “Regardless. I look forward to seeing what you’ve all done with the place.”

So many things changed that day they got their pardons. Baz’s letter contained a revelation second only to their pardons for everyone on the island. It seemed a large distillery had fallen into the possession of the crown: the former owners were consummate traitors, fiercely devoted to Delilah, and utterly depraved.

Fortunately, Corvo knew an experienced distiller, even if he was accustomed to much smaller batches. He also knew a great number of people who suddenly found themselves free, with no money and limited job prospects. What was the use giving them pardons if they couldn’t leave the island and rejoin society without turning to crime for money? Unfortunately, he couldn’t simply give them the coin they might need, his and Emily’s positions were too financially tenuous as it was after what Delilah did. But they did suddenly have a large number of sized properties on their hands. And could give out modest sums towards their repair.

Not everyone from the island moved to Karnaca, and even fewer took up residents in the distillery to help get the place up and running. The harpist and her partner sailed off to Dunwall so she could become a royal musician. Many others had families they were eager to return to scattered through the isles. Several of the elderly individuals moved to Karnaca, and while they did not help with the distillery exactly, they still stuck around, relying on the others for necessities. Still others remained on the island, after all, not all the residents were hiding.

The distillery suffered fairly substantial damage during its...change of ownership. It took months to get the place up and operational. Kell took the opportunity to redo the front of the building how she wanted, turning it into a tavern, where they could serve their alcohol and food to go with.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to work then,” Daud said almost reluctantly, resting his hand over the one situated on his leg, weaving their fingers together. “Should be fun, almost like old times.”

Corvo nodded, what almost looked to be a glint of sadness in his eyes as he squeezed Duad’s fingers. “I’m looking forward to it.”

Daud hesitated, not sure what to make of his expression, but it faded as quickly as he came. He was just tired. That was all.

Corvo hadn’t taken up residence in the Duke’s palace. He hated how isolated it was from the city. Nonetheless, it was still a fair journey from the tavern. Daud found himself traversing the rooftops on his way back, before he had to stop and remind himself it was now wholly unnecessary. But by then he’d nearly arrived.

He found the front door to the tavern propped open, the sandwich board announcing their upcoming grand opening partially blocking the door. Daud slipped inside, and found Baz behind the bar. He smiled and waved as Daud approached.

“Did he forget?”

“Yes.”

“Is he coming?”

“Said he might be late, but yes,” Daud said with a smirk, sitting on a bar stool. The tavern area was large, with high ceilings and not quite enough tables and chairs. It was still very much a work in progress, but it was nice, if a bit industrial.

“Here, try this, can’t decide if I’m gonna serve it at the opening or not,” Baz said, pouring something clear and dangerous smelling into a glass. He slid it to Daud, who picked it up cautiously.

Part of the time getting the place ready was also working on making the booze. Baz, quite rationally, put most of the stills to work on recipes that he knew would produce good liquor in a short time frame; it’s not like they were going to be serving any finely aged whiskeys in the matter of a few months. Daud and the others all found it mildly irritating that Baz, apparently, knew how to make good spirits all along, and just subjected them to his constant experiments for his own entertainment. Naturally, business savvy aside, Baz couldn’t help but also brew up one of his more experimental batches. 

The liquor burned going down, but not as badly as Daud expected given the smell. It had a subtle flavor, far more nuanced than what he was used to getting out of Baz.

Daud grunted. “It’s good. Not what I want to drink, but I think other people will.”

“Yeah, you don’t got what they’d call a ‘sophisticated palate,’” Baz said with a wheeze, Daud nodded in agreement, there was no point in pretending otherwise. “But let's be honest here, don’t think ‘sophisticated’ is gonna describe our clientele.” 

“Hopefully not.”

“Once we got enough cash for the rest of our chairs, I’ll see about makin’ more special batches. Make it our thing.”

Daud nodded. “Sounds like a good plan. Trick them into thinking the special batches will be good with this first one. Keep them coming back for more.”

“Hey now-”

Before Baz could defend the honor of his special batches, he heard a few people make their way through the front door. None of them were footsteps Daud recognized, three men from the sound of it. Baz started waving them away, explaining they weren’t open until later, before one of the men interrupted.

“Ho-ly shit. It really is you. Heard rumors Basil was back in town, and with your own _distillery_ no less. A pardon’s one thing, every jackass got one of those. But what official’d you have to blow to pull this off? Shit…” one of the men barked. Surprised recognition came onto Baz’s face, which quickly morphed into anger. 

“You. The hell are you doin’ here?” Baz growled, as Daud raised a brow, leaving his back to the men for now. He so rarely saw Baz angry. He took a sip of his spirit, the picture of nonchalance, even if he was ready to start breaking heads at a moment's notice.

“You’ve been outa town for a while. This building’s in our territory now. Damn, usually don’t come on these runs but had to see for myself. Now, we can’t have some plucky upstart hawkin’ booze without payin’ their dues, now can we? Or did you think we’d go easy on you since you used to be one of ours? You know we can’t play favorites, Basil.”

Daud rolled his eyes. They’d wondered if this would happen sooner or later. Though he was a little surprised to hear they were from Baz’s old gang. 

Baz scoffed. “One of yours? You bastards rolled on me the second they put a number on my head. One of yours my ass.”

“Sorry Basil buddy, but business is business.”

“Business?” Daud said finally, catching the attention of the intruders, watching them out the corner of his eye before he took another sip. “You know. Back in Dunwall... the gangs were constantly at each other’s throats. They didn’t really agree on much at all. Except one thing. None of them were willing to abide a rat…”

“You calling me a rat?” The leader snapped, turning his ire on Daud, who still kept facing the bar.

“I felt that was fairly obvious. Guess I’m calling you an idiot now, too.”

“Big words coming from some old man. I don’t like your attitude.”

“And I don’t like yours. I’d suggest you leave,” Daud said, keeping his tone casual. 

“What, you really think we’re scared of you?” the older man barked. One of the man’s younger companions took a couple steps closer to Daud, chest puffed up, ready to start a fight, until he got a better look at Daud’s face, making him hesitate, recognition starting to glimmer in his eyes.

Daud turned a faint smile on the younger man, finally swiveling on his stool. “No...but you should be,” he said, leaning an elbow casually against the bar.

“Uh...boss?” the younger thug started, taking half a step back. 

“The hell’s wrong with you, just clock the old ba-” the man started, before he stopped, recognition also coming into his eyes. 

Daud downed the rest of his drink before gently setting the glass back on the counter. “Baz, you want to do the honors?” 

Baz cracked his knuckles, drawing an alarmed outlook from the man. “My pleasure.”

Baz disappeared from behind the bar, and reappeared behind the older man and his companion, grabbing each by the collar. They jumped, letting out startled yells as Baz vanished before their eyes and they found themselves grabbed. Baz started dragging them to the door, while the last one, closest to Daud, stood petrified in owl-eyed alarm.

“You should probably go, before one of us has to remove you,” Daud said smoothly. The young man stammered.

“Uh, y-yes, sir. Sorry sir,” he said, before scurrying for the door. 

He saw Baz plant his foot on the oldest gangster’s ass, giving him a solid shove out the door, followed by a string of profanity and curses for good measure. He let the last gangster slip by, who did so with muttered apologies, and closed the door behind them with a satisfied grunt.

“Damn that felt good! Hope we don’t get a reputation, though…”

“I think getting a reputation is inevitable,” Daud said with a chuckle, as Baz returned to the bar.

“Yeah, you’re right about that, I guess. Oh, reminds me. Heard from Lizzy, she’s not gonna make it tonight, but her and her crew’s gonna be in town next week!”

Daud nodded with a smile. “Good to hear. So, you finally going to make a move when she’s here?”

“Don’t rush me. Wooin’ a fine woman like that’s a...delicate operation.”

“There’s absolutely nothing delicate about that woman.”

“Didn’t say she was. Said the _operation’s_ delicate…”

“The _hell_ are you two doing just standing around! There’s so much work to do!” Kell barked the moment she emerged from the kitchen. Her hair was escaping her bun, in a frazzled halo around her head. She was covered in sweat and looked just shy of wild eyed, her apron absolutely splattered with filth, and with little Anaya close on her heels.

“You, take this-” Kell said, scooping Anaya up and bodily thrusting her into Daud’s lap, as the girl giggled, despite her grandmother’s obvious distress. “And get me a bushel of peaches. We’re short. Need them for the tarts!” Kell demanded, before disappearing back into the kitchen again.

“She’s been like that all day. Maybe I should get her to sample our spirit menu for the opening… Might get her to relax a little.”

Baz got back to work, or an approximation of work, and Daud took up his newfound task of shopping for peaches and babysitting, apparently. At least Anaya was plenty accustomed to being thrust into the care of the various adults in her life. Though she still wasn’t adjusted to living in the city, and was dangerously prone to wandering off. 

After the third time Daud had to quickly divert off his path and drag the kid along, he gave up and simply hefted Anaya up onto his shoulders. That usually appeased her wandering ways. She giggled, and began vigorously drumming on his head. 

“Hey, no hitting if you want a ride,” Daud chided, causing her to simply awkwardly start grabbing onto his face for balance instead.

“Your hair is so gray. Why are you so old?” Anaya asked, making Daud snort.

“I ask myself that question every day.”

“Will I be old like you some day?”

Daud smiled. “Hopefully.”

It didn’t take long to find a stall with peaches. The vendor was friendly, and happy to start gathering up the fruit for Daud, as the man clearly had his hands full. The vendor smiled up at Anaya.

“She your grandkid?” he asked as he carefully piled peaches into a sack.

Daud shook his head. “A friend’s. Just looking after her for a bit.”

“He cut me out of my mom’s belly!” Anaya added helpfully, causing the merchant's smile to stiffen, his eyes going round.

“It was a surgical procedure. Her mom’s fine…” Daud clarified as he took the timidly offered bag.

The merchant breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh! So you’re a doctor? Been a lot of you in town since Addermire opened back up. I’m glad to see it. Little lady almost had me worried for a second! Don’t take this the wrong way, but you kind of look like that assassin guy. Dawed or something?” the merchant chuckled, before tallying up the total.

“I get that a lot,” Daud said as he counted out his coins for the merchant.

“He’s uncle _Daud!_ ” Anaya corrected, again, very helpfully. This time the merchant’s eyes widened even further, as the color slowly started draining from his face. 

Daud rolled his eyes, dropping the coins in the merchant’s hand and taking his peaches. “Kids, right?” 

Daud sauntered off into the crowd. Usually he would work to blend in, pardon or no, he still didn’t want to draw attention to himself. But it wasn’t much of an option with Anaya in tow, let alone riding on his shoulders. Though he found being seen in public with a bubbly small child did more to prevent people from recognizing him than any of his past disguises ever did. Daud was always aware of situational recognition, he would be recognized immediately creeping around dark alleyways, or menacing people in bars, compared to only sometimes if he was well dressed in broad daylight. Who knew the ultimate disguise was a chatterbox child?

That was until she had to go and blurt his name.

“You know, Anaya, we’re going to have to have a talk about discretion…” Daud said with a smirk.

“What’s dissection?” 

“Discretion and...It’s not doing certain things. Like saying my name in public.”

“But why?”

“We’ll talk about it later…”

__

Corvo rubbed his eyes, looking up from his pile of paperwork to find the sun had disappeared from the windows. He set his glasses aside and scrubbed his face. It took a lot of convincing from Emily to get him to accept this post. He wanted to stay by her side protecting her. But even Corvo eventually realized a rudderless Serkonos was more of a threat to her safety than anything else for the moment. 

Not to mention, it’s not like he’d be able to look after her forever. At some point he’d have to step down, as Wyman and several others were quick to remind him. He could take solace in the fact that he’d trained her well. Her accomplishments while he was encased in stone showed how good she was at taking care of herself. And with Wyman and several other truly loyal people by her side...the best thing Corvo could do to keep her safe was to leave, and take a massive promotion. 

Promotion or not, affairs of state weren’t really his strong suit. He learned plenty through the years glued to Jessamine and then Emily’s sides. Emily especially consulted with him regularly. But it didn’t mean he was cut out for the work. 

At least he’d received a fairly warm welcome by the people if only a tepid reception from the aristocracy. He was already something of a folk hero, the Serkonan who came from nothing becoming the father to the Empress, and now the duke of his own homeland. So he could play that to his advantage, albeit clumsily at times. He strove to surround himself with people far smarter than he was, but some days there was no getting around doing far too much work that felt over his head. It was exhausting. 

It almost made him miss the monotony of the island.

Almost.

In the days after finding Emily alive, his life was so consumed getting her back on her feet that he barely had a stray thought for himself. When he learned Daud and the other villagers had left, he felt a distinct stab of pain and regret in his gut. He knew somewhere in his mind their departure was inevitable. Despite the fact that Emily made it _extremely_ clear she wanted Daud absolutely nowhere near herself, Corvo still wanted, needed to talk to Daud before he left. But in the rush of everything, it slipped through the cracks. 

In the months that followed, Corvo penned countless letters which all ultimately met their fates wadded up and pitched into the fireplace. Sometimes a few short lines. Sometimes pages and pages of half coherent ramblings about how he felt, how he missed him, about his regrets and his longing. About how he wished he could reach through the void and grasp that tether what bound them, and pull Daud to him. Curl up with him in bed together and simply rest. About how he found himself wanting to hear Daud’s advice, listen to his foul mouth and sharp tongue. Wanted to hear him laugh.

But Emily’s position was...precarious in the early days. He couldn’t imagine the consequences of a love letter from Corvo to Jessamine’s assassin getting out. They kept their most loyal people in a close knit circle. It would be a staggering waste of resources to send one on such a journey. Not to mention one he couldn’t even begin to explain it to Emily.

Emily promised they’d discuss what she’d seen between Corvo and Daud _“later.”_ Hear his explanation later. As it turned out, she seemed perfectly happy with _never_ instead. And Corvo wasn’t particularly eager to push the matter. 

Daud’s presence lingered in the back of his mind, both figurative and literally. The connection forged by their shared powers made it feel almost like he never left. Dulled the pain of his absence a little. He didn’t feel the presence fully at first, but slowly he found the contours of that strange, little pull at the base of his skull, feeling warm and familiar. He took comfort in it, that was, until it slowly faded away. 

Then one morning he woke up truly alone. Still, he dragged himself through the motions, and found himself in Emily’s office, preparing for the day.

“We have a meeting with the meat packing consortium at noon, Lady Vanvernon at two, and void, the Tyvian officials should be arriving for dinner. Is the dining room even fully repaired yet?”

“It’s functional, but there are still some fairly significant cosmetic blemishes,” Emily’s assistant said. The Empress sighed.

“Of course there are. It felt like such a low priority. I’m sure they’ll let it slide, don’t you think, Corvo? Are you listening? Corvo...FATHER,” Emily had barked at him, as Corvo, admittedly, hadn’t really heard a word of what she said. He jumped.

“What? Sorry…”

“What’s the matter with you this morning?” Emily barked, before she gave her father a far more scrutinizing look, her brows furrowing. “Are you okay? You look...pale,” Emily said, worry seeping into her voice as she rose from her desk. She pressed a hand to Corvo’s forehead, apparently checking for a fever. He smiled remembering all the times he’d done that to her as a child, gently catching her wrist.

“I’m fine,” he said, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“Really. Are you sure you’re feeling well? We have a lot going on today. If you need rest...”

“I’m not sick...it’s...complicated,” Corvo said, now starting to _feel_ sick. How could he possibly explain it? Especially in light of the long overdue conversation that never happened. 

“What is it?”

Corvo shook his head, his mouth running dry. He glanced around the office, Emily’s assistant shifting on her feet awkwardly and a maid at the far end of the room dusted the hearth, either actually ignoring them or doing a good job of faking it.

Emily eyed him a while longer, her eyes trailing to the clock, then to her assistant. “Could you give us some privacy?”

Her assistant nodded and gathered the maid before they left, closing the door behind them. 

She took Corvo’s hand in both of her own. Her hands looked so small against his. The Outsider’s mark on the back of her hand still strange to see, standing in stark contrast against her fair skin. She didn’t always cover it, instead simply claiming it was Delilah’s doing, the result of her imprisonment. The excuse seemed to appease most everyone.

“Father, please?”

Corvo sighed. “We never talked about it. When I found you. When _we_ found you... “ Corvo said slowly, Emily nodded, brows furrowed, before the slow realization came onto her face, her expression growing colder, though she kept her hands in place, holding his.

“I suppose not.”

“Do you still want to know?”

Emily hesitated before she nodded stiffly. “Yes. I do,” she started, looking away. “Is he back? I thought he’d left.”

“No. He’s gone.”

“Then what could this have to do with…?”

“He can share his powers with others. He shared them with me. I could kind of feel him because of it. But it faded. It was gone when I woke up this morning. It...it’s hard to explain.”

Emily swallowed, mulling his words over. “Is that what happened? He turned you into one of his minions? Used his sick magic to control you?” 

Corvo shook his head. “No. I asked him to share his powers with me. It was my idea.”

“And what, now you’re sad that it’s gone?” Emily asked, sounding almost dismissive in her disbelief. Corvo could only swallow thickly and nod. She stared at him.

“So you...you’ve been...hanging onto a piece of that _assassin_ all this time? It’s been _months_.” Emily hesitated, seemingly struggling to steady her nerves, before she finally just jerked her hands away, taking a few stomping steps back, her anger flaring. “So then, I did see you...do you... Do you _love_ him?” she demanded, her voice going uncharacteristically shrill. She usually did such a good job keeping her cool, even when angry. It hurt Corvo to his core to see her so upset.

Again, Corvo could only nod weakly.

“How _could_ you? How? After what he did to mother! How can you betray her memory like that!”

Corvo got to his feet, taking a step forward, imploring, as Emily took a step back. “I know it’s hard to understand. It was hard for me to understand too. But...I thought you were _dead_. I thought everything was lost. I couldn’t just...I felt I had to let go of the past if I wanted to be able to live,” Corvo explained, his voice rough. It was painful even to say out loud. It felt cruel and wrong. But he could remember the grinding despair, the need to move on. 

“I...I failed Jessamine. And I failed you. You two were my entire world. I cared, _care_ about you more than anything. You were all that mattered to me, my entire purpose, my family, my job, my duty. And I _failed_. I couldn’t live with myself...I had to. I had to let go or…”

Emily sniffed, her bottom lip trembling, tears streaking her cheeks, her rage crumbling away bit by bit, before she simply threw her arms around Corvo. “You didn’t fail us, Father...I’m sorry...it’s just hard to understand. Letting go is one thing, but…” she said, hesitant to even finish her sentence.

“I know…Trust me I know. I’m not sure I understand. But…he wasn’t the man I expected him to be.”

Eventually they sat back down, and Corvo finally set about telling her everything. Essentially all she knew about his time away was he got injured escaping Delilah’s bounty and wound up stranded on an island and lived with some friendly people who helped patch him up. She didn’t even know Daud was the one who monitored his healing, took responsibility for his care in those early days.

Their conversation ran so long, eventually her assistant timidly knocked on the door, reminding Emily about the consortium meeting. She told her to reschedule them. Not only was their conversation incomplete but she was aware she looked like a bit of a mess from crying.

“I miss mom. So much. Especially now…” Emily finally said, scrubbing her eyes.

“Me too.”

“I’m sorry for how I reacted.”

Corvo squeezed Emily’s hand with a smile. “No need to apologize. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you sooner.”

“Why don’t you rest for today? I can deal with the appointments myself,” Emily suggested, squeezing Corvo’s hand back.

“Don’t be silly, I’m fine.”

“I just. If you need some time to yourself, don’t worry. I can handle it.”

“I’m sure you can. But if I’m not there, how will you escape Lady Vanvernon’s gossip about everyone she’s slept with the past three years?” Corvo said with a smile, making Emily groan loudly, then laugh.

“Void, you’re right,” she said, a smile finally cracking her face.

Emily seemed to understand. Or as close as she could get. She at least accepted there were things she’d never be able truly understand, and it didn’t matter. She wasn’t there, she wasn’t in Corvo’s shoes.

She still had no desire to _ever_ set eyes on the man who literally haunted her nightmares as a girl. But, she could at least appreciate that reality was complicated. After all, she found it in her heart to forgive Billie. It took some time, but she could recognize how the woman had changed, got to know her through their journeys together. She wasn’t about to jump into bed with the woman, but it still made it easier to see Corvo’s side.

Either way, Emily was grateful to all of the people who helped Corvo. And eventually they had to tackle a peculiar problem: the prisons in the Isles were overflowing with people who’d committed “crimes against the crown” under Delilah’s rule. Not only were many of these “crimes” were acts expressly in support of Emily’s rule, many more citizens were imprisoned with trumped up crimes that amounted to “annoying Delilah and her friends.” Or the countless others driven to desperation due to the horrible circumstances Delilah caused. Needless to say, the villagers weren’t the only ones to receive blanket pardons. It was easy to slip them in the endless lists of individuals who’s punishments Emily waived. 

Corvo was startled to see Daud’s name on a list without even requesting it. Emily seemed to understand he wouldn’t dare ask, even if he wanted it. She acted like it was nothing, but they both knew better.

They slipped his name into the bottom third of a particularly long list, vainly hoping it would go somewhat unnoticed. Naturally, it did not. But Emily handled the pushback with skill and grace that would have made her mother proud. Every time the matter arose, she would immediately pivot the conversation to reforming crime and punishment throughout the Empire, and Delilah’s abuse of the law. 

Corvo reluctantly pushed himself up from his desk. The way his mind was wandering, there was no use trying to get any more work done. Besides, he really was looking forward to seeing everyone. The rest could wait until morning. 

The tavern was open and industrial, the chatter of everyone inside echoing loudly off the high ceilings and bare floor. But it still immediately felt like home. Kell stood behind the bar, chatting with Roderic, who looked somewhat better preened than usual. Corvo smiled, his assistant’s crush on the woman was obvious to anyone with eyes. Though he was unsure if anyone had bothered to tell him Kell was an ex pirate yet. Though surely he knew from context she was some sort of criminal. 

Corvo barely made it in the door when Sokolov shuffled up to him. “Corvo! Or should I say Duke,” he greeted with a smile, clasping Corvo by the shoulders.

“Anton, I didn’t realize you were still in the city,” Corvo said as the man started leading them towards a table with Billie, Nadia, and Daud already seated around it.

“Billie’s shipping me off to Tyvia next week,” Sokolov said as he settled in a chair.

“You make it sound like I’m doing it against your will, old man,” Billie chuckled.

“Billie is very graciously transporting me back home to Tyvia next week,” Sokolov corrected, drawing a snort from Billie.

Corvo shook his head with a smile, taking a seat next to Daud. He slid his hand under the table to rest it on Daud’s leg, giving it a squeeze. Not especially subtle, but everyone at the table already knew, thanks to Nadia and her big mouth, with the exception of Sokolov, who just figured it out on his own. Not that they’d been overly careful while living in his apartment. 

It felt nice, sitting there, drinking, talking. It felt like the good times on the island, tucked away together, playing stupid games, taking shit, and getting drunk. Only this time with a few extra friends, a larger space, and far worse acoustics. 

Eventually, several drinks deep, Sokolov leveled his gaze on Daud, who raised a brow before the old man could even open his mouth. 

“Daud.”

“Yes?”

“Can you really believe you’re a free man now?” Sokolov asked with a wry smile.

“No, not really,” Daud replied plainly.

Sokolov chuckled, while Corvo shook his head.

“Well, I’m glad for you. Men like us...sometimes we need second chances. Or third. Or fourth chances…” Sokolov said, turning his tired smile on Corvo. “Void knows if we deserve them or not. But I’ll take it.”

Daud simply nodded in agreement.

“Regardless, I suspect I will never be back this way again. I very much wanted to ask you, and may never now get the chance. You were such a talented pupil. So much potential. Why _did_ you leave the academy? Really?”

Daud blinked, looking surprised. Corvo blinked too, he of course knew about Daud’s time at the academy, but had never really thought to ask why he left. He always just assumed he was ill-suited to the environment. He knew Daud was smart, but hearing him called a ‘talented pupil’ was a bit unexpected. 

Daud seemed to think it over for a moment, before a faint smile settled over his lips. He leaned back in his chair with a shrug. “I was...looking for answers. Eventually realized I couldn’t find them there,” he answered simply. Sokolov grunted and nodded.

“So. Did you ever find them?”

Daud thought, for a long moment before he responded. “I think I did.”

Sokolov smiled. “You’re a fortunate man then.”

Some, slightly more light hearted small talk later, Sokolov excused himself. But not without demanding Daud look after not only Billie, but Corvo in his absence. Something Daud graciously agreed to, despite Billie and Corvo’s objections. 

As the night drew on, and Corvo sat by Daud’s side, the inches of space between them almost seemed to ache. He disliked sneaking around with Jessamine. He couldn’t help but be exasperated by the fact he was once again in a relationship he could not share with the world. But as it had been then, it was still worth it. 

He thought back on the evening they reunited. For the sake of appearances, always damn appearances, Corvo didn’t meet Daud and the others at the dock. He didn’t even see most of the villagers for at least a week. Instead he sent a messenger with a note to deliver to Daud the moment he disembarked. It implored Daud meet with him.

And he did. It was a semi-abandoned building, being slowly cleaned and repaired, but empty for the night. Corvo stood in the center of the room, anxious and fidgety. He felt positively ill with anxiety. With the pardons, he’d finally sent a note. He’d run out of time, mulling over the perfect words to say, and scratched out a three line missive at the last second for the messenger.

_I must guard my words, I hope you understand._   
_I am sorry for how we parted. You deserved better._   
_Please come to Karnaca, I need to see you._

Corvo was never good with words. It felt staggeringly inadequate. But still, Daud came to Karnaca. Came to meet him. Corvo’s heart leapt into his throat when he appeared. 

“I...I could feel when you arrived,” Corvo had blurted awkwardly, shifting his weight nervously as he stood, watching Daud. His expression was almost completely unreadable. But unmistakable glimmers of annoyance seemed to simmer under the surface. How could he blame him? He deserved so much better than how Corvo had treated him the past year...

“I could too. And the powers came back…” Daud said, stepping forward, studying Corvo’s face.

For some reason, Corvo still pictured Daud in the finery they stole. Naturally he was back to wearing his usual clothes. Not rags, but not a lot better. He could have sworn the man had grown grayer since they last saw one another, paler, thinner.

After a few long, agonizing moments of silence, words came spilling out of Corvo in a torrent. “I tried to write you. S-so many times. I really tried. But I couldn’t...I had to watch my words and I couldn’t _find_ them either way, I-- Then with Emily and everything and trying to restore the Empire and Dunwall after all that happened, _was_ happening. But...but it’s no excuse. I have no excuse. You deserved better. I’m so sorry…” Corvo said, as Daud slowly approached, feeling almost panicked, his words tumbling out faster and faster the closer Daud drew. “And then I didn’t even ask what you would want. I just reached in and uprooted you all so you’d be next to me, and didn’t even really consider if you’d want to, it was selfish and-”

Daud grabbed Corvo by the shoulders, silencing him, the impassive, vaguely annoyed look in his eyes fading, a sparkle of what almost looked like amusement showing in his eyes.

“Corvo?” Daud said casually, Corvo’s mouth falling open and a half sound that was all Corvo could manage of an acknowledgement managing to squeeze its way out of his throat. “Shut up,” Daud concluded with a smile, before he pulled Corvo in, and trapped him in a devouring kiss. 

Corvo’s arms wrapped around him, clinging like a drowning man might hold on to a life preserver. 

He’d never experienced a kiss like that. Doubted he would ever again. Close to a year of absence and guilt and hurt and longing crumbling away in one overdue embrace.

* * *

Daud enjoyed the evening with his friends, _and_ with Corvo. It felt like old times. He saw the villagers and Billie all the time, but he usually only saw Corvo alone, sneaking into his office or bedroom. It was always good and intimate, but it was fun to be out among friends. Talking over better than average liquor, but, eventually Corvo had to leave. The tavern would be opening to the public later in the evening, the old times could only be revived for so long.

“It’s late, I believe it would be safest if the Duke had an escort back to his home,” Daud said with a melodramatic bow after Corvo announced his intention to leave. 

“Are you suggesting I can’t take care of myself?”

“You’ve spent how many months trapped behind a desk now?” Daud asked with a smirk.

Corvo folded his arms, drawing himself up as he gave Daud a skeptical, yet playful glare. “Maybe so, but you rarely beat me in the past, old man, and I’m sure I could still take you.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Billie leaned over to Nadia, elbowing her gently. “Is this flirting? They’re flirting right?” Billie asked, as Nadia snorted.

“Think so.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah, get a room,” Nadia laughed, draping herself over Billie’s shoulders, pretty much nestling Billie’s head between her breasts. Daud snorted a laugh. 

Eventually they said their goodbyes, and slipped out of the buildings, and onto the rooftops. After all, it wouldn’t be prudent to be seen together strolling the streets. Not to mention they were both a little tipsy. A drunk duke walking home with a solitary friend at night might as well have an enormous target painted on his back. They’d be able to handle it, but it wasn’t worth the hassle.

They entered Corvo’s bedroom through the balcony, and swiftly retired to Corvo’s couch. It wasn’t too late, but the long day and the liquor seemed to be weighing on Corvo’s eyelids. Nonetheless, he gave Daud a tired smile as they settled in.

“It’s fun, actually being out in public with you. Everyone, even. I think the last time we were really at any sort of fun gathering together was crashing Lady Aberdine’s masquerade ball…”

Daud chuckled. “You might be right. But I’m not sure how much that counted as being out having fun. We were pulling a job.”

“True. But it was still fun,” Corvo said with a wry, almost sly smile. 

Daud raised a brow, eyeing him. He _had_ been curious about something for a long while. “Did you plan it? That night at the ball. The dance...The kiss?”

That little wry smile grew, even as Corvo tried to play it off. “I expected the opportunity to dance would arise, and had planned to take advantage of it, yes. The kiss, however… I just saw an opportunity and I took it.”

Daud wheezed. “So, you can plan a seduction, but not a heist?” 

Corvo shrugged, casually running his fingers along the nape of Daud’s neck. “Have to plan for a lot of contingencies with a heist. If you get rejected when you make a move, you just get rejected.”

“Fair enough.”

“It was nice though, wasn’t it? Almost makes me want to find some excuse to throw a masquerade ball…” Corvo mused as he sagged onto his couch, Daud smirked.

“I don’t think throwing a masquerade ball would be a particularly good use of Serkonan resources at the moment.”

“I know, I know…” Corvo said, waving the thought away as Daud also reclined, studying Corvo. “Still...would be nice to dance with you again,” Corvo murmured wistfully.

Daud hummed in agreement, before an idea settled on him. He heaved himself up from the couch, drawing a quizzical look from Corvo. He moved to an audiograph player sitting off to the side of the room, already gathering dust. He slid open the drawer beneath it, and took out a small stack of cards, thumbing through them. He picked one, and fed it into the machine. The player crackled to life, a gentle waltz playing on its speakers.

Daud returned to the couch and stopped before Corvo with a facsimile of a courtly bow, hand extended to Corvo, who’s look of puzzlement had slid smoothly into a smile. 

“Well, care to dance?” Daud prompted smoothly. Corvo took his hand, and equal parts rose and was pulled to his feet, Daud promptly resting his spare hand on the man’s side. “Though this time, I lead.”

“Fair enough,” Corvo conceded.

The two moved with the music, their steps awkward at first, as they had been at the masquerade as Corvo adapted somewhat clumsily to his following role. But soon they fell in step, anticipating each other’s motions, though this time with no masks to hide the fondness in their eyes. He could get lost in those dark eyes. 

So many years, Daud spent alone. So many years in self imposed exile, and an exile of his own making. So many years spent believing he was undeserving of love after everything he’d done, thinking he might as well dig his hole deeper, make his damnation complete. He chose to become a hunter of man, because he could see no worthwhile path in his life.

And now here he was. He’d outlived his own mother by more than double, spending his days with a loving found family he could never have imagined. A family who could together help make at least their world a little less cruel. 

Corvo slid in close as they danced, nuzzling into Daud’s shoulder, their steps slowly turning into more of a shuffle than a waltz. Daud breathed in the scent of him; he was wearing that same cologne that had so overwhelmed him at the masquerade. Their connection seemed to hum, warm and content in the back of Daud’s mind, made all the more complete by virtue of holding Corvo in his arms. Maybe they couldn’t dance together in public, but Daud wouldn’t trade this for the world.

It was imperfect. Yet simultaneously, as close to perfection as Daud could ever dare to imagine. He closed his eyes, nestled into Corvo’s neck, holding him close as they gently swayed in time with the music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -catch Daud sipping the Dunwall equivalent of Mikes Hard Lemonade because he’s secretly a basic bitch  
> -imagining Baz’ old gang members having an existential crisis trying to figure out how tf hes apparently one of Duad’s crew now fills me with far more amusement than it has any right to  
> -BUT in all seriousness here we are at the end. Thank you to all you beautiful readers and commenters and kudoserz and everything. I hope you enjoyed! Kinda sad it's over ngl! But <3s all around.


End file.
